


What Are Friends for?

by Jbee



Series: Gates of Askr: Year Two [10]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jbee/pseuds/Jbee
Summary: A new year has brought new goals to the heroes of Askr. To be smarter, to be stronger, and above all, to support and guide each other in all of life's ups and downs. After all, what else are friends for?Ch. 1: The Gourd Life: Something sinks in the kitchen, and it's not just the food! Ranulf and Kiran have to work together to come up with a quick dish to serve the heroes!Ch. 2: Broken Bonds: Kiran arrives at the gate, only to learn of Lif's devious plans for her.Ch. 3 Weeks have passed since the Order has lost Ranulf to Líf's discarded world, and the heroes are doing all they can to fix the gate to bring him back!Ch. 4 It's the day of their mission, and Kiran has some time on her hands after the briefing. She spends the time reflecting with close friends on matters of the heart, as well as, realizing new goals to strive for in Askr.Ch. 5 Kiran and her team have made it to the World of Awakening. Their mission has been running smoothly, and they are making good time in their race to meet Anankos, but with every road there are a few bumps along the way, and there's happens to be Emblan Soldiers standing in their path.
Relationships: Lay | Ranulf/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran
Series: Gates of Askr: Year Two [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038126
Kudos: 7





	1. The Gourd Life

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a collection of short stories driven by the FEH Subreddit Weekly Writing Prompts, Feb. 1st, 2021. "The Order's rapid growth has a few drawbacks, and difficult choices must be made when food supplies run low."

Kiran lazily yawned, covering her wide open mouth with the back of her hand as she waited for Ranulf to come back with their meals. The Order of Heroes’ dining hall was abuzz with activity, everyone trying to find a seat during the lunch time rush. She sat staring off into space deep in her own thoughts until someone casted a long dark shadow over her table.

Ememiya gently cleared her throat to get the summoner’s attention, her slender hand offering her a sealed envelope.

“Oh, who’s this from?” Kiran stared at it, and looked up to the priestess in wonder.

“Prince Alfonse asked me to deliver this to you my summoner.” Ememiya’s voice was soft and calm, and she slightly bowed her head as she spoke.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me! Thanks, Ememiya.” Kiran giggled, turning attention to the envelope as Ememiya took her leave. Kiran wondered what Alfonse wanted, most likely something to do with the upcoming Anniversary for the Order of Heroes she thought.

“Lunch is served!” Ranulf placed two steaming plates on the table before he plopped down in the seat across from her.

“Mashed squash again?!” Kiran looked down at the pile of orange mush in front of her. “We had this for breakfast, and dinner the night before!” She pulled her spoon out of the dense heap, scrunching up her nose when she sniffed the contents, and dropping the spoon in disgust. “And how is it getting… worse?”

“No kidding! Boy did we pick a bad week to leech off the Order’s dining hall.” Ranulf lent back in his chair with folded arms and let out a big sigh. “But bills are due, and we have no other choice. It’s either this, or we starve.”

Normally the pair would cook meals for themselves at the house they shared, but sometimes, when coin was tight, they would take advantage of the food the Order offers to the heroes. The downside was that they never were able to choose what meals that they were given. That was in the hands of the head chefs, Oscar and Peri.

She looked around at all the distort heroes as they pushed their food around on their plates. Kiran clenched her fist, hammering the top of the table as she stood up. “We deserve better than this! We all do!” She shoved the envelope into her coat pocket, turning her attention to Ranulf. “Come on, let’s go back into the kitchen and see what the heck is going on!”

Kiran held her head high as she crossed the dining hall with Ranulf in tow. There was no way she was going to let her heroes be treated this way any longer. Kiran pushed the swinging door to the Order’s kitchen open, determined to set things right, and get good food for all the heroes. “Hello? Oscar? Peri?” The kitchen was dark and quiet, and she exchanged an uneasy look with Ranulf.

“Back here!” Oscar called out to Kiran’s relief. She and Ranulf followed the direction of his voice and entered the back room of the kitchen. The normally calm and cheerful head chef for the Order looked disheveled and stressed. He stood writing manically on a large chalk board that he used for meal plans, and his apron was covered in orange and brown stains, with dried squash seeds clinging to his hair. Oscar turned, and greeted them with a crooked smile, and they heard a scream from the room adjacent as they saw Peri run a gourd through with her lance through the open door. “My apologies for the mess, we haven’t found the time to clean the kitchen in the last few days.”

Kiran looked around at the state of the kitchen. There were dirty pots and pans, and pieces of squash cooked every which way littered all over the counters and floor. “What is going on here? The kitchen looks like a warzone, and you look awful!”

Ranulf nodded in agreement. “Same with the food.” he shifted his weight placing a hand on his hip. “Something stinks about this, and it’s not just the steamed squash you keep serving us!”

Oscar slumped down into his chair with a long sigh. “It’s because the roster of the Order keeps growing, but the budget the kitchen receives to feed the heroes has stayed the same. We are at a point now that there are too many mouths to feed, and the garden in the Aether keep hasn’t been able to yield enough during the winter months to cover us.” His face twisted, and his demeanor changed, he tightened his hand into a fist and punched the palm of the other in annoyance. “Well, except for the squash. They just seem to grow, and grow, and grow!” Oscar shook his head, his temperament cooling again, and he forced a laugh. “So, in the books it looks like we can get by, but it’s all squash, all the time!”

“But you two are master chefs.” Kiran tilted her head in thought. “Surely you can come up with something a bit more… exciting to do with all this squash?”

“That’s what I’m working on now!” Oscar quickly stood up, directing their attention to the chalk board with outstretched arms. “Behold! My ‘Mquash Smountain!”

Ranulf took a step closer, the recipe of the board was almost complete nonsense. Scribbled pictures, and the instructions of a madman. He scratched his chin and raised his brow. “Is that… Boyd standing at the top of that heap?”

Oscar waved him off with a chuckle. “I know, I know what it looks like at first, but please bear with me. The idea came to me in a dream!” He stopped with a puzzle look on his face, and shook his head in annoyance, his demeanor changing again. “No wait, that can’t be true Oscar, you haven’t slept in days!” Oscar threw his head back, and laughed. “Gosh, darn it, you’re right, Boyd! Where is my mind these days? Too many heroes to feed, too little time!”

Ranulf and Kiran exchanged worried looks with each other as they overheard Peri screaming something about ‘squash smashing time!’ followed by a loud crash.

Ranulf gently placed his hand on Oscar’s shoulder, leading him away from the chalkboard. “I think you two should take the afternoon off, and maybe tomorrow as well. Get some rest. Kiran and I can work on serving dinner tonight.”

“You two would do that for us?” Oscar’s eyes welled with tears, and his lower lip quivered.

“That’s right! We can’t have our best cooks working around the clock like this!” Kiran nodded in agreement with Ranulf's suggestion. “I’ll make sure to talk to Anna about getting you guys the help you need, and finding some volunteers to cover you guys for the rest of the week!”

Oscar choked back a sob, turning to address his sous-chef in the other room. “Come Peri, we can rest now.” He placed his arm around the small woman, her hand shook, and her eye twitched as she continued to mumble ‘smashy, smashy’ over and over again. “Thank-you.” Oscar waved a weak hand as he left the Order’s kitchen in the pair’s hands.

Ranulf watched the two chefs leave the kitchen, clapping his hands and rubbing them together once the door closed. “Okay, now we just need to come up with a plan of action for dinner tonight!” He grabbed an apron, throwing it on, and pulled out knife he kept strapped at his thigh with an excited grin. “Just follow my lead!” Ranulf’s smile dropped when he turned to see Kiran had already proceeded to cut a squash in half, and was busy coating the inside with butter. “Eh, what are you doing?”

“Oh! I used to make this all the time in my world.” Kiran didn’t look up, and she began dusting the squash in brown sugar. “It’s really good!”

“Sugar and squash?” Ranulf raised an eyebrow while he crossed his arms, trying to wrap his head around the idea. “You come from a strange, strange world…”

“We have everything we need, and it doesn’t take long to make!” Kiran placed the squash halves on an iron tray, and slid it into the large brick oven. “Trust me!” She gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

Ranulf snorted loudly, and shook his head. “Last time I trusted your cooking, I spent the entire night in the bathroom! So excuse me, I’m going to veto your dish!”

“Okay, wise guy, what do you propose?” She rolled her eyes, and turned an hourglass over to keep time for her own dish.

“Just watch this!” Ranulf cleared a space on the counter, and began pulling ingredients from the shelves, muttering to himself.  
  
  
  
  


Kiran decided to stay out of his way, and she began to tidy up the kitchen while he got to work. She gathered the filthy pots and pans that had stacked up on the counters and placed them in the large sink to soak in hot water. Kiran quietly hummed song lyrics from her own world while he swept the food scraps that littered the floor, she smiled as she watched Ranulf engrossed with chopping away. There was something perfectly peaceful about being here in this moment that she never wanted to end. She lazily lent her chin on the broom handle, dreaming of a future that could be.

No. She shook her head; it was unfair to think of such things. Life was good the way it was, and the last thing she wanted was to ruin their friendship, Kiran reminded herself, her bubble popping when Ranulf clapped his hands loudly, and lifted up a plate with a triumphant announcement. “Meaty squash wraps with chopped tomatoes!”

Kiran quickly washed her hands, and joined him at the counter, eager to try what he made. On the small plate sat a fresh and delicious looking sandwich. The bright red tomatoes and orange squash looked like jewels on a bed of green cabbage. Starved, Kiran took a large bite, letting the flavorful juices flow over her tongue. “This is really good!” She exclaimed after swallowing a second mouthful. Kiran placed the rest of the wrap down and pulled out a pad of parchment, reaching for a pencil. “Okay! Let's make a list of what was used so we can make the recipe in balk. How many tomatoes did you use?”

“Just one!” He proudly finished the other half of the wrap.

Kiran stopped, breaking the tip of the penciled on the pad of paper, and turned to Ranulf. “One… whole tomato? For one small wrap?! That’s a one to one ratio, and there’s only a couple of bushels in the cold stores.” She pushed the pad of paper away, and sat up straight, crossing her arms in disappointment. “Definitely not enough to feed the entire barracks this dish.”

“Well that is going to be a problem…” Ranulf scratched his chin and looked away in thought. His eyes widened, and he grinned, hitting the palm of his hand with his fist. “Okay, I have another idea!” Ranulf dashed into the back store room, and pulled out a caldron, filling it with all sorts of sauces, spices and oils. He carefully placed the caldron on the counter, taking the leftover chopped squash, and dropping handfuls of them in the unknown solution. He pulled out some eggs and added them to the witches’ brew, placing the caldron over a low flame. Ranulf proudly looked over to Kiran when he finished. “Marinated squash and eggs over a coleslaw bed!”

Kiran and Ranulf watched the pot slowly come to a boil in silence, until she cleared her throat and placed a hand on her hip. “And how long is this dish going to take to make?”

“Nine hours, give or take.” He shrugged and continued to stare into the pot. “Twelve if you want the best flavours to shine through!”

“We don’t have that kind of time!” Kiran groaned, turning her back in a huff and noticing the sand in her hourglass had just run down.

“Shoot.” Ranulf turned his attention to Oscar’s chalk board in disappointment, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “Maybe we’re stuck feeding the heroes ‘Mquash Smountain’ again. I guess one more night isn’t going to hurt them.”

“Here! Try this!” Kiran quickly swooped in from his side, and pushed a spoonful of her sweetened squash creation into his mouth.

Ranulf’s eyes widened, lighting up in surprise. He rolled the morsel around in his mouth, and then finally removed the spoon slowly. “Hey… This isn’t half bad! In fact, it’s great!” He laughed, taking another spoonful. “By Ashera, I think you’ve done it! Does this dish have a name?”

“Yes! Joyce's Sweet and Savory Baked Squash!” Kiran exclaimed without thinking, only realizing her mistake of not changing her real name to ‘Kiran’ after the sentence came tumbling out of her mouth.

“Well, I don’t know who Joyce is, but my compliments to the chef!” Ranulf continued to dig into the squash, none the wiser. He tapped the spoon lightly on his lip in thought. “But, maybe we can change it to the ‘Kiran’s Sweet and Savory Baked Squash’ when we serve it to the heroes tonight?”

Kiran breathed a sigh of relief, that the secret of her true name was still safe. Part of her wanted to tell him the truth. She trusted him, and wanted Ranulf to know who she really was, but there was the other part that was fearful he would shun her for pretending to be the legendary hero for so long. Kiran nodded, and agreed to his suggestion to use her Askran name. The name Alfonse assumed was hers on arrival. “Kiran’s Sweet and Savory Baked Squash’ it is!”

“This reminds me of when we made those chocolate treats for Day of Devotion last year!” Ranulf laughed, recalling the event that felt so long ago now. “Except you’re a little less grumpy today!”

“Me? Grumpy? Never!” Kiran sarcastically gasped, remembering how angry she was that day, and how Ranulf helped her through it. It was one of the first times she had really opened up to him, or anyone in Askr, and she smiled. “Hey, the Day of Devotion festival is coming up soon! We should bake those treats again; we could make it a yearly tradition!”

“Only if you promise you’ll dance with me at the Ball of Devotion again!” Ranulf snickered, referencing to when he pulled her onto the dance floor last year after she had finally shown up to the ball. “I would hate to be the only fool in the middle of the ballroom floor!”

“It’s a date!” Kiran laughed, recalling how nervous she was since she had no clue how to dance like they did in Askr, but neither did he, and the two of them made-up the steps as they went along to the music, encouraging the other heroes to join in. “Do you remember how disgusted the Askran noble class was when they saw the dance moves we invented?!”

“Yeah! They kept turning up their noses.” Ranulf closed his eyes, and titled his head up, placing his hands on his hips, and popping his shoulders to each mocking word. “What are those two doing? Who do they think they are? This is not a yokel barn dance!”

Kiran held her sides while she laughed at the memory. “And Alfonse got stuck having to listen to all their dreadful complaints after almost a week!” She wheezed, her laughter cut short when she remembered the letter that was given to her earlier that day. “Oh wait, Alfonse! I completely forgot.” She dug her hand into the pocket of her coat that was draped on the counter to retrieve the envelope, urgently ripping it open, and quickly reading it. “Alfonse wants me to meet him at this gate outside the capital. Crap, it says ‘come quickly,’ and it’s already been a couple of hours since I received the letter!” Kiran dropped the letter down on the counter with her scarf, and pulled her coat on.

“We can head there now?” Ranulf pulled his apron off.

“No, you stay here, and look after the dinner for the Order tonight. Besides, it will be faster if I just catch a coach.” Kiran dug her hand into her pockets, fishing around for some coins as she walked for the door. “Good, I have just enough to cover the fare!” She stopped just before she left, turning to apologize. “Sorry, to take off like this, I actually think I would prefer to stay here and work in the kitchen with you if I could!”

“I know.” Ranulf nodded gentle, the colour in his cheeks darkening. “Oh, Kiran?”

“Yeah?” She stopped and turned back, clinging to the door frame.

“I just wanted to say…” Ranulf hesitated, the words catching in his throat. Was this really the path he wanted to take? He wondered. “Never mind, it can wait until you get home later tonight. Better not keep the young prince waiting any longer!”

“Okay, I’ll see you back home this evening! I won’t be long!” Kiran promised with a smile, dashing off on her next adventure.

Ranulf cursed himself, clenching his fist. I can’t keep flip-flopping like this! He scolded himself. The joyful memories of the past faded into a painful reminder of what they could have if he was just brave enough to tell her how he felt. He sighed as he lowered his eyes, but he wasn’t ready to face the consequences of making that choice, of losing a part of himself down the road. Nor did he think it was fair to ask her to wait until he was ready to decide, and he knew she was never going to push him to make that choice.

Ranulf shook his head from his negative thoughts, besides, life was good the way it was, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin their friendship, he reminded himself, and there were heroes depending on him to have dinner ready soon. He needed to focus on that! Ranulf threw his apron back on, when he noticed Kiran had left Alfonse’s letter on her scarf on the counter. He scooped up her belongings, and tossed them into his satchel to make sure she would have them once she returned home. After all, what else are… friends for?

* * *

The winter sun set early, and all was quiet and still in the garden of 1606 Fljót house. Ranulf spun his key around his finger, the green stone in the keychain catching the last of the sunlight, as he slipped the end of the key into the lock of the front door. He was tired from his long day working in the kitchen, and his mind lingered on thoughts of his future as he entered the dark house.

Ranulf tossed his coat on the hook, dropping his satchel on the floor before noticing a light coming from the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall. Kiran must be home, he smiled, eager to join her so they could share their adventures that day. He could hear the soft sound of a tea cup being placed on a saucer, and he looked forward to getting something warm in his body too. He turned and walked down the hall when he caught a faint scent that was out of place in their house. That’s not Kiran in the kitchen, he realized, as the hairs on his neck and arm stood erect. Ranulf reached for the knife at the side of his thigh, as he quickly and silently crept down the corridor, suppressing the urge to transform in the small space. His larger form would be too cumbersome to navigate the tight corner, and the light of the transformation would surely give away his present ruining a chance for a surprise attack.

His heart raced and his instincts kicked into overdrive. He might have been weaker in this form, but he sure was not helpless, he reminded himself as he quickly dashed out from the hallway into the kitchen. Throwing his arm around the intruder’s neck, he held them in a chokehold as he dragged them off the stool, pressing the tip of his blade under their ribs. The familiar smell of oiled leather and freshly laundered linens filled his nostrils, and Ranulf’s eye grew wide when he placed the scent. “Alfonse?!” He gasped, pulling his knife away, and dropping his arm from the prince’s throat. “I’m so sorry! What are you doing here? How did you get in?” He pressed, helping him regain his balance.

Alfonse rubbed his neck, coughing as he caught his breath. “No, I am the one that should apologize. I never meant to give you a fright.” He gasped, slumping back down on the stool. “Kiran gave me a key month ago, and I let myself in to wait. I thought she would be home by now. I wanted to discuss the upcoming Order’s Anniversary event with her.”

“Kiran’s not with you?” Ranulf slid his knife back into its sheath, and raised his eyebrow. “She left for the gate you requested her to meet you at hours ago.”

“Forgive me my friend, but I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.” Alfonse shook his head in confusion. “I never requested Kiran to go anywhere.”

Ranulf returned to the hallway to retrieve his satchel, rushing back to the kitchen and producing the envelope Kiran had received. “She received this letter at noon today. It has your signature at the bottom.”

“What magic is this?” Alfonse’s eyebrows pushed together and his forehead creased with concern, as he reviewed the letter he held. “This is definitely my handwriting, but I did not write this.” His eyes widened when he realized what he was looking at, and he crushed the letter in his hands in frustration. “Damn it. This is no magic. The letter was written by Lif…”

The stool Ranulf sat upon hit the floor before the name of the deadly swordsman left Alfonse’s lips. “I knew he was bad news.” He muttered, as he rushed into the hallway, and grabbed his coat from its hook.

“We must get back to the castle.” Alfonse was only a step behind Ranulf, already working on a plan of action. “We will need to cross-reference the name of the gate in the letter with the map in Soren’s office. Kiran’s the only one who has all their locations etched into her memory.”

“You go ahead to the castle, I’m going to back-track though the city, and try to pick-up her scent. I can follow that trail quickly.” Ranulf pulled the scarf Kiran left behind from his bag, wrapping it around his neck, and holding it close to his face, inhaling the all too familiar smell of roses as he reached for the door.

“Be reasonable Ranulf, I realize you’re worried, but there’s at least hundred gates surrounding the capital, and hundreds more within a day’s travel. I know you’re fast, but you can’t expect to find her that way!” Alfonse pleaded as he watched the laguz stormed out of the house.

“Then I will just have to check them all!” Ranulf called out to the prince, ignoring his request, and letting the crazed power unlocked by his beast form take control. He lunged forward leaping over the iron fence, dashing as quickly as his legs could carry him down the cold cobblestone street. Even if it took him all night, he would find her. After all, she was more than just a friend to him. Kiran was more than his best friend, his roommate, or his summoner. She was the love of his life, and nothing would stop him from bringing her home that night to tell her that.


	2. Broken Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiran arrives at the gate, only to learn of Lif's true plans for her. Now she has to buy some time so Ranulf and Alfonse can reach her before it's too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of a collection of short stories driven by the FEH Subreddit Weekly Writing Prompts, Feb. 8th, 2021. "Without the Summoner to mediate, a dispute between rivals gets out of control."

Kiran shivered, and pulled her coat closer around her body as she climbed the stone stairs that wrapped around the cliff side. It had been just over a year since she had last seen this gate, but she had not forgotten the feeling of dread that surrounded it. Even the afternoon sunlight could not chase the sickening aura that the cold gray stone, covered in dried vines gave off. Why would Alfonse ask to meet here? She wondered, as she slowly ascended, crawling closer to the top summoning platform. The humming of the aether that flowed through the rock grew louder, a sign that the heroes that came from this site were some of the strongest.

“Hello? Alfonse?” Kiran called out once she arrived. The top platform was carved into the craggy rock cliff which enclosed the main summoning area, blocking the view from the stairs. The tall round stone, carved with Yggdrasil, the tree of life, used for summoning was embedded in the cliff wall on the other side, and adjacent to it was its world gate. The pool in the centre of the gate shimmered, and the mirror-like surface was as still as calm water.

Each summoning platform that held a gate and Yggdrasil stone were different in Askr, as different as the worlds they connected them too. Like fingerprints across the landscape, they each had their own look and feeling. The only thing that was similar, was the gate in the attached world. Its twin gate, as Cannas liked to call it. The gate that kept each hero bound to their own world while they were in Askr. Kiran walked across the platform towards the quiet stone arches that formed the gate, she could feel the low vibration of the aether flow under her boot with each step she took.

“You’re late.”

The voice startled her from behind, and her hand found the cold steel of Breidablik at her hip as she turned quickly towards the cliff side to confront whomever the voice belonged to. “Líf?”

“You should have been here by now.” He stood in the shadows of the craggy rock by the summoning stone, the very same one he had come from.

“I would have come even if you signed your name in the letter, you know. Why did you use Alfonse’s name?” Kiran questioned, confused why he would do such a thing. She knew he had always felt uncomfortable in the castle. Apprehensive about being in her Askr, but she wanted him to feel a part of her Order, to trust her, like she trusted him. “You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not.”

“I’m not pretending anymore.” His answer was short, and he seemed agitated, azure vapours drifted around his face.

“What’s going on?” She let her hand fall from her weapon, lowering her guard for her appointed captain. She had placed Líf in charge of the unsavory heroes that had arrived in Askr. Villains and lowlifes, that needed a strong leader to keep them in line. “Is someone giving you a problem?”

“Be still, I have little time to explain.” Líf ignored her, and he quickly strode across the platform towards Kiran and the gate, placing his hand on the stone arch. “Do you recall what gate this is?”

“Yes.” Kiran knew all the locations by heart. A strange quirk that came with being the summoner she assumed. Kiran didn’t need a map to find them, and she didn’t have to look at the Askran script carved into this stone arch to know which one it was. She remembered the ominous feeling this gate gave off when she had last stood on the platform. “This is the gate to your world.”

“My Askr. A desolate wasteland that I abandoned. It’s nothing more than a corpse, like me.” Líf sighed as he stared at the, the azure mist escaping his armour. Pausing, Líf’s gaze dropped towards her, and for the first time since she had known him there was life in his dead eyes. “But it won’t be that way for long.”

“I don’t understand.” Her curiosity peaked. Kiran remembered the day the Order had passed through the Dread Gate into the Realm of Hel, and chased the Líf they had beaten through his gate, into his Askr. The lifeless world had made her skin crawl, and if there was a way to right the wrongs that befell those Askrs she was interested to know that power. “How?”

“Be patient, you will understand soon.” Líf’s fingers scraped against the stone as he let his hand fall from the stone arch, turning his back, and walking to the centre of the platform, the soft blue light of the aether flow pulsating beneath him. “Remember when I promised you change was coming? Well, I wasn’t wrong, change is coming for me. I realize now that my path here has been only leading up to this moment. The moment when I can finally restore my Askr, and take my rightful place as king.”

Kiran took a stunned step back, and the winds picked up, wiping the ends of her coat, and her messy blond curls around her face. Líf’s words made her uneasy, and she knew she had to take control of this situation. This was not the place to have this conversation. What if he decided to leave? That would be a harsh blow to her barracks. She had to talk him out of these ideas and thoughts somehow, and she needed time to come up with a plan. To figure out the right thing to say, and convince him to stay with her. Kiran cleared her throat, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re worrying me, and I’m cold. Why don’t we go back to the greenhouse where it's warm, and we can talk?” She kept her tone casual, trying to buy some time. “Just you and me, and you can tell me –“

“Stop.” Líf coldly commanded, turning on his heel to face her, raising one hand and tightening his grip on the hilt of Sökkvabekkr with the other. “Your kind words are always so manipulative. I won’t be fooled by them again.” He sternly warned her, taking a step forward as he continued. “I don’t blame you. I know it’s really all you have to work with. Your body is so frail and weak. You’re not as strong, or as brilliant a strategist as my David was. Yet, here you still stand. Why is that, I wonder?” He scoffed, and shook his head when he finished belittling her, leaving Kiran in stunned silence. “Never mind, that’s in the past now, and I will work with what I have in front of me.” Líf gripped her shoulders, his scarlet eyes burning into hers as staring down at her. “No, Kiran, we won’t be going back to the castle. Well, at least not the one you’re thinking of. Soon we will be at my castle.”

Kiran’s mind was clouded as his words sunk in. The cut deep, they confused her. Líf can’t be serious, can he? “Your castle?” Kiran sneered, scrunching up her nose in disgust. “I don’t think so! If you want to go back to your world, go ahead. I won’t stop you.” Kiran pulled herself from his grasp in a huff. Who does he think he is calling her weak? “But, there’s nothing left there for you Líf, it’s a dead world, just like you.” She spat turning to leave. Kiran had enough, he was bringing out the worst in her, and she was not above throwing a few hurtful jabs in his direction. She wasn’t a hero, after all.

“You’re wrong.” Líf shot back.

Kiran stopped in her tracks, a chill traveling up her spine, why was he picking a fight with her?

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you this yet, but I hate being so devious, it’s not my way, and I did want to give you the choice.” Líf stood tall, and she could feel him looming over her back. “I plan to rebuild my Askr. Return it to its full glory.”

“Oh really?” Kiran stood her ground. She doubted his idea, and crossed her arms as she spun around. “And just how do you expect to do that?”

“The answer was always right there in front of me. I know now it’s actually why I was summoned here. It’s like you told me before.” He gave a cool chuckle. “This place, this Askr, has given me a second chance at life, but, most importantly it has given me a second summoner.”

Kiran felt numbed by what he said, and didn’t know how to respond. What did Líf mean to do with her? She froze when he reached for her with no hesitation, brushing away tendrils of hair that had blown in her face with the tips of his fingers, and sliding them around, cradling her face gently. Líf’s eyes were like smoldering coals burning into her.

“Don’t you see, Kiran? You will summon heroes to my Askr, picking-up where my David left off, while I rule as king. You will be mother to my Askr. This is who you are, soft and gentle. It’s in your nature. Together we will usher in the rebirth of a new Askr, a stronger Askr. The strongest Askr. An Askr built of heroes, and our strength will even make the gods weep.”

Líf’s eyes lit up as he spoke, and she knew what was left of his face would have mirrored the ghoulish grin that was frozen on his mask. It was the first time she had ever felt his happiness, and it made her sick to her stomach. Kiran recoiled back from his touch, pushing his arm away. “I’m not going anywhere with you Líf!”

“My name is Alfonse!” Líf growled, gripping her forearm, and stopping her from leaving. “And you were always going on about how you wanted to help me, well, now’s your time to prove it! It’s why the gods have given you to me, it’s our destiny!”

“No! Alfonse was right.” Kiran tried to use her full weight to rip herself from his grasp, but he held strong with little effort. “You are insane!” Kiran’s word cut deep, and Líf let her arm go, making no attempt to further interfere, and watching her stride across the platform.

Kiran cursed under her breath, her mood turning foul. Not only was she going to have to make the long walk back to the castle in the cold, she was mostly likely going to be stuck at work filling out paperwork with Soren all night to get the help Líf needed. She shook her head as she approached the platform stairs, caught off guard when she made her way around the craggy rock cliff side that blocked their view, and came face to face with a group of strange men ascending the stairs.

“Well, well, seems like our special guest has shown up early.” A blonde man in a long dark fur coat blocked Kiran’s escape at the top of the stairs. His well shined boots scraped the surface of the stone platform as he casually stepped up on to it, followed by three larger men, dressed similar to the guards of Askr, but instead of gold and white, they dawned gray and mauve. He sneered at Líf, looking through Kiran, her existence meant little to him. “Why would that be?”

“Edzard?” Kiran gasped, when she realized it was the same man who had threatened her at the Nýr Hetjudans Ball last fall. The snooty nobleman was a member of the royal small counsel, but their paths had rarely ever crossed. She had no interest in the Askran politics, or rubbing elbows with its elite. “What’s going on here?” She demanded, reaching for Breidablik at her side. Kiran wasn’t going to let this scrawny jerk scare her a second time, besides, she had Líf with her, and there was no way Edzard was any match to her General of Hel. She flipped the snap to her holster, preparing herself for any fight ahead.

Líf clasped his hand on Kiran’s wrist, stopping her from retrieving her weapon. “I’m sorry, Kiran.” He whispered, quickly placing a cold damp cloth over her mouth and nose. “I wanted to give you the choice to come with me. I thought we were of likeminded.” Líf held her tight while she struggled against him, forcing her to inhale whatever toxin the cloth had been soaked in through her muffled screams.

Kiran twisted and turned in his grasp, but it was useless, like fighting against a wall. Kiran felt the coolness from the cloth that was placed around her lips travel throughout her body. Her limbs grew weaker, and her mind became numb. She tried with what was left of her strength to break free, until she couldn’t move at all. Her energy spent, Kiran’s world faded to black, and all she heard echoed through her thoughts, unsure if it was Líf that asked the question or herself, _I thought we were friends?_

* * *

Cold. Her whole body felt so very cold. Kiran tried to pull her legs in to keep warm, but as hard as she willed them to move, they would not respond. The memories of what had happened before Líf knocked her out came roaring back to her. I have to get out of here! She strained her muscles, and nothing worked, but her fingers. The effect of the toxin was still lingering, taking its time to dissipate. How long was she out? Her senses slowly returned to her, and her heard voices echoing off the rock, locked in a heated discussion off to her far side.

Kiran forced her eyelids to flicker half open. Just enough to see that the sun had set already, and she still remained on the summoning platform, propped against the cliff side, the gate to Líf’s Askr across from her, the only thing in her view. The dark pool between the arches shimmered in the light of the aether flows that illuminated the rock around them. Shining up from the elaborate carvings in the stone, and humming its powerful song softly. Kiran wiggled her fingers, slowly at first, trying to work them to life. If she could only reach Breidablik, and then all of this can be over. She held her breath as Líf came into view pacing across the stone platform, followed closely behind by Edzard. Her fingertips only just found the cold steel of her weapon when she saw them.

“I wanted Kiran to choose this path.” Líf lowered his head, disappointed with the outcome of his plan. “I wanted her to want this as her destiny.”

“You numbskull!” Edzard chided the swordsman, throwing his arms up in frustration. “Of course she doesn’t want this! Look at you. Now she has seen my face, and knows I’m a part of this. My family is relaying on me to rid this world of its summoner without bringing any suspension upon us.”

“What does that matter?” Líf shrugged, and gestured towards the gate. “Soon Kiran will be in another world. She will not be able to inform anyone of your involvement.”

“Is this idiocy really the product after I was replaced by that righteous Zacharias as your mentor?” Edzard mused, shaking his head in disappointment. “And you don’t think there won’t be an investigation? You left evidence. You wrote a letter, for Askr sake! They will be out searching for her at this very moment, and anyone found on the outskirts of the capital will be questioned!”

“If you didn’t want to be caught committing treason then you should not have done so to begin with.” A soft voice replied, as two darkly cloaked figures stepped onto the summoner platform. Kiran strained to turn her head to see as they lowered their hoods.

“Veronica?!” Líf whispered in astonishment, turning to Edzard in confusion. “Why is she here?”

“I want the gate closed after I rid myself of you.” Edzard strolled over to the young Princess of Embla, bowing, and taking her small hand in his, lightly kissing her father’s ring. Veronica stared at him without emotion, her face could have been carved of the stone that surrounded them.

“What?” Líf continued to press for answers. “Embla has refused to close any gates for years!”

“The princess has made a consideration.” The second figure spoke, her voice cold and stern. A voice that Kiran would never forget, and her heart sank. The high priestess from the Embla festival of blood. The very one that pushed her to make a human sacrifice.

“The powers of Embla and I share the same goal.” Edzard greeted the priestess the same way as he did the princess. “Ridding Zenith of the summoner.”

“That won’t stop Alfonse from reopening the gate.” Líf pointed out, shaking his head.

Edzard rolled his eyes, and sauntered over to the swordsman. “The little prince is a pup without a father. He has never opened a gate in his life, nor will he have the opportunity to figure it out during all the chaos that will follow this night.” He grasped Líf’s shoulders in each of his hands, as he proudly explained his plans. “My associates will make sure to keep the young prince and the Order of Heroes busy after you two are gone.”

“Your associates?” Líf’s eyes squinted into slits as he stared down at Edzard. “Who do you work for?”

Kiran grasped Breidablik, tightening her fingers around its grip and she pulled the weapon from its holster. With what little physical strength she had she pointed it at Líf and Edzard in front of where she sat. It made sense now. What Mother Rå had warned them about in Sem. “The Order of the Betrayed…” She glared at them, calling on the magical energy that was within her to charge the weapon, its barrel beginning to glow with soft white light, and Líf’s eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost, and he stood frozen in awe.

“Pathetic.” Edzard smirked, striding over while she was distracted by Líf, and grabbing Breidablik by the barrel, twisting it out of her weak hold. Kiran slumped back against the cliff wall, still weak, and she clenched her teeth, her hand screaming in pain. Edzard snickered as he knelt down beside her, brushing flyaways that hung in front of her face with the end of her weapon. “You know; this would be a lot easier if I just slit your throat here.”

“No.” Líf placed his hand on Edzard’s shoulder, and took Breidablik away from him. “We will take our leave now.” He informed Edzard, bending over, grasping Kiran’s arm to pull her to her feet. His eyes burned into hers, they both knew there was nothing she could do to change their outcome. It wasn’t until Líf’s eyes widened, and they both turned their heads when they heard a commotion. Edzard’s men crying out near the stairs, and a blur of a blue steely fur hurtled from the top of the cliff side with a throaty growl directly into Líf, ripping Kiran’s arm from his icy grip.

“Ranulf!” Kiran gasped, her heart leapt, and her spirit lifted as she watched her friend tackle Líf, their momentum carrying them to the other side of the summoning platform. One might have assumed that Ranulf would be at a disadvantage for this duel, but over time, and with much training, his beast form became something not to be toyed with. He held the size and bulk of a large jungle cat, but with the agility and quickness of the smaller feline cousin. A deadly combination to face in almost any environment.  
  
  
  
  


“You again?!” Edzard shouted, stumbling back, scrambling to join Veronica who was in the safety of his guards. “Insolent beast! Kill him, and bring me his hide!” He ordered his men, pointing desperately at the laguz.

“You said this wasn’t going to take long?” Veronica cooed quietly at the priestess beside her, unbothered by the turn of events. “I dislike being so close to the Askran capital. My head, it hurts, and I want to go.”

“Just a little longer, my princess.” The cold woman reassured her. “Stay strong for Embla.”

Ranulf gave a short grunt as he leaped off of Líf’s body, and dashed towards Edzard men who advanced on him. Ranulf pounced, catching the first man off guard, and toppling him over as he went for his throat. His claws easily sank into the soft flesh, and his fangs cracked the man’s skull as he clamped down. Ranulf tore into him with no mercy as the man cried out in pain until his neck snapped, and he was silenced.

Kiran grimaced, and her stomach turned. He’s going to kill everyone! Kiran realized, Ranulf eyes flared with a fiery cyan flame, and he snarled at the other guards. His coat was dirty and glistened from sweat and melted snow. How long has he been running like this? She wondered, his beast form taking its toll on his mind. Losing himself to his own crazed anger, and the instincts of the hunt. I have to help him, and put a stop to this. We need to bring Edzard to the court to face justice. Any more bloodshed will just put Ranulf and the Order in hot water. Kiran searched for Breidablik, spotting it across the platform, beside Líf, who was already back on his feet. If worse comes to worse, I’ll put them down, even Líf, if I have to. I need to protect Ranulf at all costs!

She braced herself against the rock cliff, and slowly pushed herself to her feet. Kiran’s muscles ached, tingling with pins and needles with each step, and she clung on to the rock, struggling to regain control over her balance. I just have to follow the wall, one inch at a time, she encouraged herself, I can do this.

Ranulf took quick side steps, dodging each advancing lance that was thrusted in his direction. He exposed his canines as he let out a long hiss at the guards, crunching down on his front legs, and his tail whipping back and forth. He prepared himself to lunge forward, taking the opening that was presented to him, when the heavy blade of Sökkvabekkr came crashing down on the stone platform in front of him.

Violet sparks sputtered outward as the metal sword clashed with the stone, forcing Ranulf to leap away. “Protect your masters.” Líf directed at the guards as he clung to his ripped cloak, azure mist cascaded from a fresh black gash on his left cheek where Ranulf scratched him. “Leave the beast to me.”

Determined to put a stop to this, Kiran kept her sights on Breidablik. Inching closer to her goal, and slowing working her body back to its former strength. She heard Ranulf let out a low guttural growl before he lunged fearlessly at Líf, slashing at the sword Líf used to block the assault, and kicking hard off of it, gracefully leaping back to the platform. Ranulf lowered his stance, and swiped at Líf’s boots with a giant paw, and snapping his jaws at his shins, putting Líf on the defensive.

The lethal swordsman swept Sökkvabekkr down the length of his body, keeping Ranulf’s teeth at bay. “You’re tough, but of course you are. You’re her favorite.” Líf sneered as he blocked a second attack. Ranulf’s claws screeched loudly as they scraped along the length of his blade. “Maybe if she’s lucky she can summon a replacement once we reach my world, eh?” Líf snickered, his scarlet eyes lit on fire as he huffed, and swung Sökkvabekkr above his head, preparing to bring it full weight down on the laguz.

Ranulf snarled, and lunged towards Líf instead of dodging away, wrapping his jaws around his sword arm, and knocking Líf over onto his back. Sökkvabekkr clang as it hit the stone above, rattling while it slid out of reach. Ranulf continued to latch on, sinking his fangs in, growling as mist spilled from Líf’s wounds, and the swordsman shook his arm, struggling to free his body under the weight of Ranulf’s heavy body.

“You foul creature!” Líf spat, twisting the rose scented scarf around his free hand, trying to tighten it around the Ranulf’s throat. “Are you really willing to throw your life away for her?”

Ranulf dug his fangs deeper, snarling as with each breath. The bones in Líf’s arm began to snap, like they were locked in a vice.

“All she does is use us. Don’t you see that? She doesn’t care about anyone but herself! We are all just… fodder to her!” He grunted, and pushed at Ranulf’s body, unable to free himself. Ranulf’s claws splitting the bones they pierced. Líf leaned in close, close enough to just feel soft fur against his face, and smell the scents of life that drove him crazy. Roasted squash, roses, fresh field snow, and he hated the beast for what he had. “If you two are so close, then she must have told you her real name, right?”

Ranulf’s eyes widened in surprise, the cyan flames that swirled, flickered, dyeing down with Líf’s words. His jaw became slack for only a brief moment, but it was enough time for Líf to reach down to Ranulf's hind leg and pull the knife he kept strapped there.

Líf plunged the blade into Ranulf’s back, driving it down behind his shoulder blade, and twisting it before ripping it out with a spray of blood, splattering across the stone platform. Ranulf reared back his head in pain, yowling loudly into the night, and Líf took this second opening to draw his leg in under the laguz, and land a monstrous kick into the beast’s chest with his boot, punting Ranulf off, and backwards with a yelp.

Kiran gave one last groan as she finally gasped Breidablik, having made her long journey across the stone platform. She pushed herself to her feet, and steadily her balance on her rickety legs. Kiran gave a triumphant chuckle as she turned towards Líf with the barrel of the weapon pointed directly at him, but her heart sank as she helplessly watched Líf stab Ranulf, and launch him back directly into the shimmering pool between the arches of the stone gate. Sinking in and disappearing from their world in a blink of an eye. “Ranulf!” Kiran gasped, her arm and weapon fell to her side, and she felt a swell of strength surge through her body as she dashed towards the gate to follow him into the world that lay beyond.

Kiran reached out to the pool of the gate, her fingertips just touching its shimmering rippling surface as it reflected a flash of emerald green light. The world felt like it was moving in slow motion until her momentum stopped, and she hit an invisible wall. There was a tightness around her neck as something grasped the collar of her sweater, pulling her off her feet, and backwards, away from the gate. The emerald green light on the surface of the pool grew larger, blinding her, as a powerful spell shot forward from behind, and collided with her target in front of her. The sound of stone cracking, drowning out her screams of resistance, and time surged forward again. Kiran found herself locked in the darkness, and under protection of Líf’s heavy cloak as he shielded her from the explosion that was mere feet away.

“Princess…” Edzard whispered in awe, breaking the silence after the blast.

“You wanted the gate closed, no?” Veronica cooed, with no emotion as she clutched her tome and stared at her smoldering destruction with an outstretched hand. “And I want to go home.”

Líf dropped his arms in shock, freeing Kiran of the cage that held her back. He stared at the devastation, muttering under his breath. “Just like Alfonse, she’s never closed a gate before either…”

“No!” Kiran shouted as she ran toward the pile of rubble that sat scattered beneath two broken stone pillars that used to form the arch of the gate.

“We need to leave.” Edzard commanded his men. “The blast will have attracted the prince’s search party.”

“Very well.” Veronica, sighed, and pointed towards Líf. “What of him?”

“That fool? He has made his bed, now he must lay in it.” Edzard scoffed, and flipped the fur collar of his coat to block the wind, following his men down the stone steps, with the princess and her blood priestess in tow.

Kiran’s hands shook as she picked up pieces of the rubble, and she choked back sobs. Among the broken stones she found Ranulf’s knife, slick with his own blood, and she quickly took a hold of it, jumping to her feet. “Líf, this is all your fault!” She screamed, lunging at him, and pushing the blade into his chest, driving the point into the column of his spine when she was met with no resistance in his hollow cavity.

The splintered bones of his ribcage sliced into the back of her hand as she pulled the knife out, and drove it back in again, forcing the blade between any gap in his armour she could find. “I trusted you!” She cried, repeating her assault over and over again, coating the knife with her own blood. She wanted to do as much damage as she could, make him feel the same pain she felt. Líf groaned as he dropped to his knees stunned by this outburst. “I thought you were my friend!” Kiran snarled through clenched teeth, and raised the knife one last time, plunging it deep into Líf’s left eye. The swordsman shuddered, as he exhaled, mist escaping the opening of his armour, and any life that had once been there disappeared as he collapsed onto his back with the blade sticking out of his skull, his leg twitching.

“Ranulf…” Kiran whimpered, and wiped the hot tears that ran over her face, smearing her own blood across her cheeks, rushing back to the ruminates of the broken gate. “No, no, no. I can fix this…” Ignoring the pain of her wounds, she began shuffling through the pile to find edges that matched each other, and clumsily trying to fit them together. “It will be alright.” She muttered to herself. “It’s always alright!”

Líf moaned as he came back to his senses. “There’s no point.” He pushed himself to sit up, rising from the dead again. Líf staggered as he got to his feet, and he reached for the handle of Ranulf knife, slowly edging it out, trying to salvage whatever flesh of his he could. “The beast’s wounds will go untreated, and he will become just another lost soul in my world.” Líf carelessly tossed the blade back to the stone platform, with a deafening clang.

“Shut up!” Kiran spun around, and glared at him. Her heart and mind twisted with hate. “You don’t know him! You don’t know anything! If you knew what you were doing your summoner wouldn’t be dead!” She felt her rage overflowing again, and all the thoughts she never let herself think came rushing out of her mouth. Kiran scrambled to her feet, rushing over to confront Líf. “You want to know why I’m still here and not David? It’s because my Alfonse is stronger, and smarter than David’s was!” She shook her head, Ranulf warned her to be careful around Líf, and it was only now she realized it wasn’t because of what Líf was, or what he did for Hel in the past. It was because he failed David, and his action resulted in the death of his summoner. That was the real danger Ranulf was so fearful of, and she didn’t listen. She convinced herself Líf was Alfonse’s equal, and he wasn’t.

“You are no longer welcomed in my Order.” Kiran coldly informed him, her eyes burned into him, and she steeled herself. “You said change is coming for you Líf, and it is coming for you, so you better start running, and never stop running. Because I swear, when Alfonse finds you, and he will find you, I will not protect you from his wrath.” She warned him, turning her back as tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn’t want to share those with him, and she could no longer bear to look at his gruesome face anymore.

“So be it.” Líf sighed, his boots scraping on the stone as he turned to limp away. His broken bones would never mend, and his wounds would never heal. They would only grow bigger over time. “When that day comes I will happily embrace Alfonse’s judgment, but for now.” Líf paused, as he looked at his broken gate. The only connection to his own world, gone. “For now I will endure your punishment. The sleepless nights, and cold reminder that I am truly alone forever.”

Kiran’s whole body shook, as she listened to Líf descended the stairs. The soft sound of boots replaced with the howling winds, and the distant sound of wyvern wings flapping in the night. “Ranulf...” She whimpered, and her heart ached as she slumped over onto the rocks. She began wailing into the night, sobbing uncontrollably, and gasping for breath before she continued her woeful cries again. The weight of what happened, of what she lost, sinking in, and pulling her down deeper into despair. Her sadness echoed off the craggy stone cliffs, and traveled on the cold wind over the snow covered fields. If there was a living soul around that night, they surely would have told stories at their local tavern of hearing a banshee’s song.

Her hand trembled as she picked up one of the stones with Askran script carved into it, bloody fingerprints covered the surface, and she recalled what was waiting for Ranulf behind that gate. An Askr that had perished at the hands of Hel, a world starved of life, and she felt the same hopelessness she had felt when she walked the land of that dead Askr a year before.

No, I can’t leave him there! She started to push the rocks around, searching for the second stone to complete the Askran script. “I have to get him back from there” She vowed to herself, remembering his promise to her when they sat on their dock overlooking the canal. “And I’ll rip the realms apart to do so.”

“Kiran!” Alfonse called out, when he spotted her after climbing up the stone steps. He dashed over, followed closely behind by Sakura, and they knelt down beside her. “Thank Askr you’re still here!”

Sakura gasped, when she saw Kiran’s hands, bloodied and scratched. “You’re hurt!” She reached out to help Kiran stand up. “We have to get you back to the castle for –“

“No! I’m not leaving without him!” Kiran cried, stiffening her body, as she clutched on to the stones.

“There’s no sign of Líf anywhere, but he mustn’t have gone far.” Soren reported as he and Claude walked across the summoning platform to join the rest of their team.

“Kiran, what happened to you?” Alfonse placed his hand on her shoulder, leaning over and trying to catch her gaze while she still searched through the rocks.

Noticing the blade of the bloody knife, Claude reached down to pick it up, recognizing it as the one he used at the Upper Deep. “Where’s… Ranulf?”

“I can bring him back!” Kiran cried out, focused on the rubble that lay in front of her. “Everything will be alright again!”

Concerned, Alfonse pulled her roughly to face him. “Kiran, where’s Ranulf?” He sternly repeated.

“The gate, it’s broken.” Tears trickled from the corners of Kiran eyes. “But we just need to repair it, okay? Then we can get him back. You have to help me put it back together. You have to open it!”

Alfonse looked at what was left of the gate in awe. He quickly understood what had happened. “Oh, Kiran…” he whispered, pulling her shaking body towards him in an embrace, trading apprehensive looks with the other heroes who watched the scene unfold.

“We can’t leave him there, Alfonse.” Kiran sobbed into his shoulder, tears and blood staining the white cloth of his armour. “He’s alone, and hurt; we have to fix the gate…”

“Of course.” Alfonse softly reassured her as he held Kiran close. “He is one of us, and a dear friend. We won’t leave him there.”

Kiran tightened her grip on the prince, and shifted her head to look up at cracked pillars of the broken gate that loomed over them. “I promise I’ll bring you home, Ranulf.”


	3. Quaking Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks have passed since the Order has lost Ranulf to Líf's discarded world, and the heroes are doing all they can to fix the gate to bring him back!
> 
> Fates Spoilers Ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of a collection of short stories driven by the FEH Subreddit Weekly Writing Prompts, Feb. 22nd, 2021. "A particular Hero finds themselves left out of the holiday festivities, and isn't too happy about it."

The crowd cheered and threw flowers as Alfonse and his mother wrapped up the Day of Devotion’s opening ceremonies. The prince and the queen smiled and waved at groups of Askran civilians and nobles alike, stopping to hand out their blooms of amity and unity. Their long white ceremonial robes shone brightly in the morning sun, as they made their way through the crowds and stalls that had been set up in the castle gardens. The excitement in the air driving away the late winter chill of the season.

“I should have been up there too.” Sharena muttered under her breath, unaware of Kiran’s and Sakura’s presence as they watched quietly on a bench in a nearby gazebo. The two of them found a private corner to observe the festival as Sakura tended to the wounds on Kiran’s hands.

“But, noooooo, Anna gave me guard duties!” the young princess scoffed, and pouted as she returned to her patrol. “It’s not fair!”

Kiran sighed, no, it’s not fair Sharena, she silently agreed with the princess as she pulled at the sparkling green stone that hung on a chain around her neck, a Winter’s Day gift from Ranulf. A small piece of the stone that had brought him to her Askr, and she promised she would never take it off.

It had been a few weeks since the night Ranulf was thrown into the gate that led to Líf’s Askr. Lost to them after Veronica demolished the stone arch with a spell, trapping Ranulf in the Askr that had been devastated by Hel, and her army. A wasteland not fit for the living, and Kiran winced at the thought of her close friend having to be there all alone.

“Did that hurt?” Sakura quietly asked, a keen observer, who had spent every day and night with Kiran since they found her on the summoning platform alone, trying to fix the gate Ranulf had gone through.

Kiran looked down at the hand Sakura had gently applied suave on. The gashes she obtained from attacking Líf were healing nicely, and there would be very little scarring thanks to Sakura’s healing techniques. However, it wasn’t the wounds on Kiran’s hands that hurt, and there wasn’t anything Sakura could do to fix the ache Kiran felt in her heart, that numbed her to any physical pain.

“No. I didn’t feel anything.” Kiran returned her attention back to the festivities. This was the first day she had stayed at the castle on Alfonse’s insistence, claiming it would be good for morale if she were to attend the Day of Devotion festival with him. To show the strength of the Askran crown and Order of Heroes after the fallout of that night. “Why don’t you go and enjoy the festival, Sakura? I know there’s a certain archer you would like to spend some time with.” Kiran suggested as Sakura finished wrapping her hand.

“And leave you?” Sakura shook her strawberry blond bob back and forth. “N-No, I couldn’t.”

“I’ll be fine.” Kiran pushed herself to put on a brave face for her friend. It was Sakura who had arranged for Kiran to move back into her room at the castle after she was discharged from the infirmary. Sakura who had made sure that Fljót house was well taken care by Kaze so that none of Ranulf’s plants would die while they worked at getting him back, and it was Sakura that shadowed her as she spent every waking hour working with Claude and Knoll to piece together the broken stone of the gate. “Nothing would make me happier to know that you’re having a good time today." Kiran told the young healer. "You deserve it.”

“O-okay.” Sakura knew arguing was useless, and began to pack up her supplies. “Why don’t you come with us?” She suggested, in a final effort to keep Kiran close by.

“No.” Kiran gave her friend a reassuring smile. “I’m just going to go for a walk. To clear my head.”

For a moment Sakura stood quietly on the step of the gazebo, the excited festival goers happily laughing and dancing behind her. A stark comparison of the mood in the gazebo. “Promise me you will come find us later?”

“I promise.” Kiran agreed, and quietly watched Sakura leave, her brave smile fading away. Letting out a long sigh, she stood up and exited the gazebo, quietly sneaking back into the castle corridors.

Kiran looked down at the rose corsage that Alfonse had given her, a sign that she was to take part in the festival. She pulled at the corsage, tearing it off her arm, and tossed it away. She didn’t want to be at the festival. She wanted to be back at the summoning platform working on the gate. That’s what was important to her, that’s what she was devoted to, and they were so close to completing it so they could finally move on to the next step of Alfonse opening it. However, Kiran did understand Alfonse’s decision to go forward with the event. News of what happened spread quickly, and the mood in the castle with somber and heavy. Not only with the loss of Ranulf, but cleaning up the aftermath of the damage done to the crown, and dealing with the serge of attacks that had broken out along the border of Askr and Embla.

Queen Henriette had to heighten security throughout the castle after they discovered that Edzard’s family, the noble Mjög Ríkurs, had sold valuable Askran intelligence to Embla in exchange for sanctuary within their country. Leaving the queen to work with the heroes in the Order to help overlook many of the gates that had been targeted by Embla and the Order of the Betrayed as they put their plans in motion, pillaging the worlds beyond. Askr and the Order were stretched thin combating both the skirmishes in the countryside as well as looking over their shoulders within the capital. Uncertain of who else might have been involved in the conspiracy.

Alfonse had also quickly put together a team to search for Líf, however, for all of their efforts there was no trace of the undead swordsman. No clue to where he might have gone. Líf had vanished into thin air, and many whispered that he might have perished in the peat bogs that surrounded the summoning site, sinking down into the earth, unable to escape its muddy grasp. Kiran wondered if this truly was Líf’s fate, and whether it was by mistake, or intended.

Deep in thought, Kiran pulled at the green stone on the necklace she wore as she climbed the stairs in the castle corridor, leading to a hallway that overlooked the gardens. Her subconscious steps leading her to a favorite alcove of Ranulf’s when he wanted to hide from his duties, and relax in the sun. Part of her expected to see her friend sleeping in the corner when she looked up, but instead, his little alcove was filled with flowers and cards, and a few heroes knelt down lighting small candles that softly glowed in the shadows.

“What the f –“ Kiran’s word trailed off, and her heart sank when she realized it was a small memorial.

“NO! Stop it!” she cried, startling the heroes, and they backed away. “Take this down! He’s not dead!” Kiran demanded, the anger she had clung on to came busting forward. “Fine! I’ll do it myself!” She began blowing out all the candles, and tearing down the flowers. “I’ll get him back too!” She swore, filling her arms with the fragrant bouquets. 

“I found her!” Sharena called out, as the heroes scampered down the stairs past the princess, trying to avoid the summoner’s wrath.

“Kiran, stop it!” Alfonse and Sharena ran up the steps of the corridor. “Let it be.” Alfonse grasped Kiran’s arm trying to pull her away.

“No!” Kiran fought back, her anger fueling her, pushing her forward. “He’s not dea –“

“I know that, but you have to let the others mourn their loss. Ranulf had many friends in the Order. Some of them need closure so they can continue to fight in the field.” Alfonse gently told her, helping Kiran to her feet, as Sharena took the flowers from Kiran’s arms, and began trying to fix the small memorial in the alcove. “Come. I have the very best Day of Devotion gift for you.” He smirked, and led her away from the alcove. “I have just received word that they have completed the gate. We are leaving the castle right now!”

“What?” Kiran’s jaw dropped in astonishment, and she clung onto Alfonse’s arm to steady herself. “They did?” It was finally happening, she was finally going to see Ranulf again, and bring him home.

“Yes!” Alfonse laughed, there was a flare of excitement in his eyes. “You have five minutes to go grab your bag, and meet me in the garden. Cherche and Subaki will be there to take us right to the site.” Alfonse pulled his Day of Devotion tunic off over his head, messing up his well groomed hair, and tossed it over to his sister with a grin that stretched from one ear to the next. “Sharena, take over at the festival for me!" The young princess happily squealed, and Alfonse let out a hearty laugh, his bare chest heaved as he looked at Kiran with a smirk. "I have a date with a gate that needs to be opened!”

* * *

The centre space between the stone arch began to flicker with life, and a small pool of shimmering light swirled. Kiran clutched onto the strap of her satchel, ready to move out as soon as the gate was opened. She reached up and grasped Ranulf’s green stone as she looked on, she had no gods of her own to pray to, but she begged the powers that might be this would be their final attempt.

Kiran winced as she watched Alfonse struggle, his outstretched arm shook as he pushed himself to open the gate. They had been at the site for hours now, and it was clear that each time the prince tried to open a portal through to the other side it took a heavy toll on him physically, and mentally.

Alfonse grunted, the pool in the centre grew brighter, brighter than they had seen all day, and Kiran held her breath. This is it, she thought with a smirk, I’m going to get Ranulf back today! She took a step forward, her heart sinking as the pool of light began to shrink, sputtering out as Alfonse collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

“Try again.” Kiran coldly commanded, after Knoll handed the prince a small cup of water that he eagerly started drinking.

“Let Alfonse catch his breath.” Claude placed a hand on her shoulder. He had led the mission to rebuild the gate. Spending just as much time at the site as she had. They both had worked at cataloging each stone, and painstakingly spent the last week piecing them together. They were joined by Knoll, at Canas’ request, researching the mysterious magic, and the aether flows used to power the ancient site.

“He’s fine, he can do it.” Kiran waved Claude off, Líf had made opening a gate look like a piece of cake when she and him traveled to the waterlogged Askr last summer, and she knew Alfonse was stronger than Líf. Alfonse could do it!

“Kiran, you need to back-off.” Claude warned her, taking the cup from Alfonse.

“No! I’m fine.” Alfonse insisted through labored breaths. He had been so excited to open his first gate, and he pushed himself to his feet with a groan, putting himself back into position. “I can… I can do this!”

“See.” Kiran smugly sang at Claude, and he rolled his eyes at her before they stood back to watch Alfonse's next attempt.

The prince hopped on his toes, shaking his limp arms, and he rolled his head back and forth, trying to loosen his muscles. Alfonse’s hair was darkened with sweat, and he had slowly discarded most of his armour over the course of the day. Finally, he blew out his cheeks, and stared at the stone arch with determination, slowly raising his casting arm, and extending his fingers out towards the centre of the gate. His body stiffened, and Alfonse grasped an unseen force with his outstretched hand, clutching his teeth as he tried to summon forth the opening with the ancient power that was gifted by the first dragon, Askr, to his bloodline. The power to open gateways to other worlds beyond Askr.

“Why isn’t this working?” Kiran muttered, impatiently shifting her weight with crossed arms. “Maybe something’s wrong with the gate. Are you sure we haven’t missed a piece?”

“The gate’s reconstruction is perfect. I oversaw it myself, there’s barely a visible crack.” Claude was quick to respond. He was unafraid to push her back. “The fact is; Alfonse has never opened a world gate in his life. Messing around with metal locks, and pickle jars is not the same. You know I want Ranulf back too, but you have to give Alfonse more time to figure this out.”

Kiran squeezed her green stone. It had already been a few weeks, and Ranulf had been horribly injured before he was thrown in. She knew that he was laguz, and could heal fast, but it still made her sick to think of what he must have gone through during the first few days he had spent there, and even if he had survived his wounds, the world there was harsh. She wasn’t sure how long he could last, or even If he was even still… “We don’t have that kind of time!”

“Pushing Alfonse to exhaustion isn’t going to open the gate faster!” frustrated, Claude pulled her aside. “You risk jeopardizing the whole operation if you keep this up.” He sternly told her, glancing back when they heard a large crack ring out over the platform.

Kiran gasped when she saw the pool of light in the centre of the gate begin to flow outward, pushing on the inner arch, and seeping into the cracks of the stone. Alfonse’s face was flushed bright red, and his eyes were clenched shut, unaware of the damage he was causing. He held his summoning arm up with the other hand, his entire body shook as he pushed himself further than he had ever gone before.

“See.” Claude sneered at her, and rushed over to the prince. “Slow down. You’re compromising the stability of the arch.” His voice was drowned out by the winds, and the sound of the loud hum of the power being exerted from the prince. “Alfonse, stop!”

Alfonse gasped, and cried out in pain. With one last push the stone arch exploded, hailing stone and debris all over the platform. The reconstructed gate was unable to contain the flow of magic swirling within the centre, and Alfonse stumbled in exhaustion, his legs giving out from under him as his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell forward, his body limp hitting the stone platform with a sickening smack.

“Alfonse!” Kiran ran over, dropping to her knees at his side, and rolling him onto his back. Knoll crutched down to join her. “Is he okay?”

Knoll held a finger under Alfonse’s nose, and checked for a pulse, letting out a sigh of relief. “He breaths, but the prince has reached his limit, and is out cold. He will need time to regain his strength.”

Kiran nodded, standing up to address Claude. “How long until you can get the gate back together?”

“Two weeks, at least.” Claude looked at the damage, and picked up one of the rocks that had skipped towards them. “We’ll have to map the stones pretty much from the beginning again, and figure out how to build the structure to withstand the pressure Alfonse’s power is pushing outward on the inner arch.” He shook his head in disappointment. “This is all new territory, Kiran, there’s little documentation, and we are working blind here.”

“I’ll give you a week.” Kiran coldly stated, turning her back to him, and heading towards the steps of the platform to leave, her heart breaking just as the gate did.

“That’s impossible!” Claude exclaimed. “Kiran, be reasonable!”

Kiran continued to walk away, ignoring Claude’s pleas as she descended the stone steps two at a time. she found herself marching off the path. the grassy moors were dead quiet, save for the howl of wind over the small rolling hills. The snow had already started to melt, and the ground beneath her boots was soft and soggy. Kiran tried to hold back her tears, but her sorrow was overwhelming, and her heart sank further with each step she took forward.

She stopped, and tightly closed her eyes, tears poured over her cheeks, what if they are right, and he is already dead? Kiran wondered, her own hope slowly sinking, turning into despair. She felt a tightness in her chest, followed by a tightness that seemed to start at her toes traveling upwards. Kiran looked down when she heard a strange gurgling, and realized she had stepped into one of the many bogs, and was already up to her ankles in watery mud. The bubbles of the thick brown goop, popping with every inch that consumed her.

Kiran tried to pull a foot free, only to find herself settling in faster as the wet soil swallowed her up. “Shit...” Kiran muttered, and stared up at the gray skies above her. Is this how Líf felt? Hopeless, and dead inside as he sank into his own grave. Maybe this is the ending I deserve too after the way she treated her friends today. Kiran stood motionless as she continued to sink further down, giving in to her own pitiful sadness that was engulfing her mind.

“Hold on.” Claude wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her out of the bog with a grunt, leaving her boots behind. He carried her over to a nearby boulder speckled in lichen, and sat her on top. “Sit. Stay.” He commanded, pointed at her sternly, and turned back to the bog to retrieve her boots.

The wind penetrated her wool socks, and sent a chill through her body. Kiran wiped the tears on her hot face with the back of her sleeve, and pulled her legs up under her as she watched Claude navigate the treacherous bog. Taking care where to step so not share the same fate as she had. She didn’t deserve friends like this, she thought to herself, crying softly as she cradled her head on her knees. She was a poor excuse for a summoner, and an even worse friend. No wonder the heroes of the Order think Ranulf’s dead!

“I would laugh, but I know how angry you actually are.” Claude handed the mud covered boots to her when he returned, sitting down beside her on the large rock. “I lost someone I cared about in a similar way. One minute they were right there beside me on the battlefield, and the next thing I knew…” His words trailed off, and he was hesitant to finish his story. “Anyways, I have been to that dark place, and it took me some time to find the light again, but trust me, taking your frustration out on your friends isn’t going to help, or make you feel better.”

“People have lost hope, Claude.” Kiran sniffed, and roughly pulled her dirty boots back on. “They started a memorial at the castle. They all think he’s… he’s dead.”

“I don’t think that, and don’t you start either!” Claude scolded her. “I know how strong Ranulf is. He is clever and resilient! It's going to take a lot to bring him down, Kiran.” Claude smiled as he looked out over the moors. “And he is waiting for you on the other side of that gate. You just need to be as strong as Ranulf is right now.”

“What if we fail?” She looked at Claude with tear-filled eyes.

“We won’t, and I promise we’re never going to stop trying to get Ranulf back. I refuse to give up.” Claude placed an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her tightly with a chuckle. “I mean, who else can I trust to pull you out of the mud after I return to Fódlan?”

Kiran snickered quietly through tears at her own foolishness, Claude could always find the right words to cheer her up, and she knew Ranulf would have gotten a good laugh too if he actually saw her there, literally wallowing in the mud. Claude was right, Ranulf wouldn’t give up, and she can’t either. She just needed to find a way to restore their hope, and her own.

“Kiran!”

Claude and her both turned to see Soren call out from the stony path leading to the summoning platform. They exchanged curious looks with each other before they watched as the mage quickly approached them with Laslow in tow.

“Ah, perfect, you’re here too, Claude.” Soren greeted them, pushing his hood down.

“I’m sorry to report that our first attempt was unsuccessful in opening the gate.” Claude rubbed the back of his head as he continued. “In fact, we kind of completely broke it. Again…”

“Setbacks are unfortunate, but they were expected from the beginning.” Soren shook his head, and stepped aside, making room for his companion. “No, I’m not here about the progress of the gate, I’m here about something that Laslow has brought to my attention.”

“What is it?” Kiran raised her brow as she looked at the swordsman.

“Right, let me think, where should I start?” Laslow rubbed his chin. “You know my true origins, correct?”

“True… origins?” Claude whispered curiously.

“Yes.” Kiran cut-in. “You’re not originally from Nohr. You were born in Ylisse, as Inigo. You fought alongside Chrom, and the Shepherds in their war against Grima.”

Laslow nodded in agreement. “Yes, and before that I hopped timelines with Lucina to change the outcome of the battle with Grima, after our first world was destroyed by the fell dragon.”

“Wait, what?” Claude tilted his head in confusion.

“However, this is not so much my origins, but how I came to be in Nohr.” Laslow continued, shifting his weight, he lowered his voice so only their small circle could hear. “You recall I was transported by a powerful first dragon, Anankos. Corrin’s father to be exact, he changed my appearance, and gave me the name I go by now. Anankos contracted a few of us to go undercover in search of his child, and secure their safety, and ensure that they were prepared to fight his own fallen self when the time had come.”

“I have so many questions right now.” Claude mused quietly to himself in awe.

Kiran frowned, ignoring Claude, and pressing Laslow further. “What does that have to do with getting Ranulf back?”

“Nothing, this isn’t about getting him back.” Soren coldly informed her, tucking his long hair behind his ear.

“Soren, please.” Laslow pinched the bridge of his nose, and turned to his partner. “You’re brilliant, and I care for you dearly, but you really need to work on your sympathetic manner.”

“To Hel with manners!” Kiran spat, pushing to know why they had come out there to talk to her. “Laslow, get to the point.”

“Ah, right!” Laslow’s eyes widened caught off-guard, and he refocused, returning to his explanation, as smug smirk crossed Soren's lips. “In exchange for our aid, Anankos restored my original world. The one that was destroyed by Grima.”

“Restored… your world?” Kiran’s words trailed off in astonishment, and she looked at Claude. Both of their mind starting to piece together why Laslow was here.

“Now, Anankos wasn’t able to bring the people back from the dead, but he was able to restore the land to its original beauty.” Laslow continued. “I figured we could at least make Líf’s Askr habitable, it would ease any suffering Ranulf is enduring while he is trapped there.”

“If we could change the landscape, he would be able to hold out longer.” A coy smirk appeared on Claude’s face. “This would give us more time, and grant him a better chance at survival!”

“How do I get an Anankos?!” Kiran’s eyes widened in excitement, and she turned to Soren. “Can I summon him now?”

“No, summoning is not an option.” Soren informed them, rapping his fingers on the cover of his ledger. “As of yet, Anankos has never made an appearance in the stars.”

“What about the other gods, or first dragons in the Order?” Claude suggested, scratching his chin. “Can they do something similar?”

“Unfortunately, no. Much of their powers have been stripped away upon arrival to Askr.” Soren muttered, and rolled his eyes. “It seems the gods of Zenith don't like the competition.”

“Great, what do we do?” Disappointed, Kiran crossed her arms, and pouted. What good was this Anankos if we couldn’t get a hold of him?

“We go to Anankos.” Laslow confidently told them, and they turned to look at him, eager to hear more. “We have a gate to the Ylisse where Chrom has been crowned exalt of the Halidom of Ylisse. This is the perfect point in the timeline. I can give you the dates and the location of where Anankos asked us to meet him.” Kiran and Claude clung on to every word, their curiosity peaked. “We just need to enter that world, and reach the Mila Tree before my younger self, and his party arrive. We can ask Ananoks to restore the fallen Askr that Ranulf is trapped in. This version of Anankos was a kind, loving soul, I’m certain he will help us.”

“Do you really think this will work?” Claude hopefully asked Soren.

“It’s a possibility, and I believe it is worth the trouble to seek this Anankos out.” Soren was a man of little emotion, but there was a gentleness in his eyes Kiran rarely saw. Signs that showed he did care regardless of his cold exterior. “We don’t know if we will ever get this gate to function again. If worse comes to worse, Ranulf can use the gate connected to Tellius to return to a version of his home world.” Soren glanced over at Kiran. “At the very least we can give him a good life after all this, we own him that much.”

“And it beats sitting around on our thumbs until we can finish the gate.” Laslow was quick to add.

“I can put a small party of heroes, led by Laslow, together tonight, and prepare them in the morning.” Soren suggested, rapping his book in thought. “I’ll have them enter the World of Awakening by the afternoon.”

“Yes, do that, and include me on that team. I’m only hindering our efforts if I stay here” Kiran knew she was being too hard on Alfonse, and she had to distance herself before she did any more real damage. Besides, if anyone could convince this Ananoks to help them, it was her, or at least she was the only one who would die trying.

Kiran glanced up at the summoning platform, the broken stone pillars scraped the skies as the last of the sun that day pushed through the gray clouds. “We won’t just be restoring Líf’s Askr, we will be restoring the hope that we will get Ranulf back alive!” Kiran smiled, her first genuine smile in weeks, and her spirits began rising. If they could pull this off, it was exactly what she needed to give Ranulf, and herself, the hope they needed to keep hanging on.


	4. Pillars to Lean On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of their mission, and Kiran has some time on her hands after the briefing. She spends the time reflecting with close friends on matters of the heart, as well as, realizing new goals to strive for in Askr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of a collection of short stories driven by the FEH Subreddit Weekly Writing Prompts, March. 1st, 2021. Off-prompt.

The chill that still clung in the air sent shivers through Kiran’s body. She sat on the bench staring up at the massive stone statue of the first dragon Askr looming over the fountain in the centre court of the capital. The green stone that hung around her neck was cold against her skin, and she pulled the collar of her coat tighter where her scarf would have been if Ranulf had not had it with him when he went through the gate to Líf’s Askr.

Kiran looked down at the sweet bun she held in her lap, thinking fondly over the days she and her friends would gather in this very spot for lunch on the weekends. Ranulf and Claude would challenge each other over silly games, the winner would always claim the last morsel as their prize. While Sakura and Kiran would chat about their week, enjoying the music Nils would play when he wasn’t flirting with anyone who took an interest in him. Kiran ripped a chunk of her bread roll, and placed it in her mouth. The caramelized sugar that coated the top didn’t taste sweet, but bitter, and she longed to go back to those happier days.

No longer hungry, she tossed what little bread she still held in her hand to the birds, wrapping up the rest in the paper bag. Kiran shoved the baked good back into her satchel, frowning when she noticed the frayed strap had become worse. With a long sigh, she pulled at the threads, wishing she had been better prepared for her mission to the World of Awakening that she was to embark on that afternoon. The past twenty-four hours had felt like a whirlwind, and she had hardly slept a wink that night, eager and anxious to get on the road to see Anankos.

Soren’s briefing had been swift, leaving the team with a little time on their hands before they were to meet-up, and travel to their next destination.

Early that morning, back at the castle, Kiran sat by the window of the strategy room with Sakura, quietly listening as Soren laid out his plans to Commander Anna, Princess Sharena, as well as the other heroes that were chosen to go with Kiran and Laslow.

“You will be entering the World of Awakening disguised as traveling merchants.” Soren announced, rapping his tome that held in his arms, and Laslow stood beside him at the front of the room.

“And what are we selling?” Velouria crossed her arms, and gave Soren a suspicious look as the fur along her wolfskin tail bushed. “Better not be anything from my collection, right?”

Soren reached into his pockets and pulled at a finely carved wooden object. “Your wares, if anyone asks, will be Chon’sin utensils.”

“Spoons?” Silque tilted her head curiously. “Why would anyone want to buy those?”

“You’re not there to sell them.” Anna laughed, and shook her head. “Trust me the utensil game is a saturated market. No profit at all! And those won’t exactly be turning heads.”

“Precisely. It’s a cover.” Soren drying continued, and pushed the spoon back into the pocket of his robe. “You will carry only one box of these goods, just in case anyone cares to look, but the rest of your cargo will be weapons, and supplies for your mission. Merlinus will steer the caravan, and with his expertise he will take care of any inquiries about stock that you carry.”

“What about the rest of us?” Shamir demanded as she stood crossed armed against the wall. Cool, calm, and collective.

“I want you, Shamir, to work with Zihark.” Soren nodded to the swordsman from Tellius. “Gather intel, and scout the roads ahead. Make any changes to the route you deem necessary. I want this to be a smooth, clean run.”

“It was my understanding that this world was enjoying a time of peace.” Zihark quietly asked, as Knoll nodded and jotted down notes beside him. “Do we expect to run into trouble with the Nations we will be traveling through?”

“No. However, there will always be bandits, even during the most peaceful of times, so I have ensured that this team will be able to handle any skirmishes along the way. Swiftly, and discreetly.” Soren stressed his instructions, staring the crew down. “The last thing we want is to draw attention to ourselves, and disrupt the events that are to happen in their world.”

“I don’t see anyone who can take the frontline. You know, the muscle!” Nils flexed his slender arm, with a toothy grin. “Isn’t there anyone from C.H.O.P. or H.A.C.K. that will be joining us?”

Merlinus cleared his throat, and turned to address Nils' question. “Many of the axe wielding heroes are large, beefy mercenaries, and as most merchants hire mercenaries when they travel with high-end goods, to bring those heroes along will most definitely draw unwanted attention to the caravan.”

“However, if anyone was to attack the caravan, Velouria works as a deceptively strong frontline. Even more so when supported by Laslow and yourself, Nils.” Soren explained, and nodded to the other heroes that had not been given a role yet. “As for the rest of you, Silque will provide any healthcare needs if they arise, and The Exploration and Acquisitions division has requested Knoll to join the team. He will be gathering any items of interest, as well as covering long range attacks with Kiran.”

“What about me?!” Sharena piped in excitedly.

Anna scoffed at the young princess, and shook her head. “Sharena, you’re not going. You’re only here to shadow me as the Order’s commander.”

“But I want to help, Kiran, I want to go!” Sharena desperately pleaded, clenching her fist. “It’s not fair! You never include me!”

“Until you can prove that you are mature enough to go on missions, you’re not going anywhere without Alfonse, or myself!” Anna waved the young girl off.

Sharena quickly stood up, her chair toppling over, and the room was quiet. “How can I prove myself if you never give me a chance?!” She cried, tears rolling down her cheeks. The normally happy-go-lucky princess reached her breaking point. Sharena quickly turned red, embarrassed by her outburst, and ran out of the room.

“Ignore her.” Anna sighed in disappointment, turning back to Soren. “Proceed with the briefing, and make it quick, I have a few interesting entrepreneurs I’m meeting with this morning!”

“Ah, right.” Laslow gestured the group to move around the large strategy table as he rolled out a map, using battle pieces to hold down the edges. “This will be the route we will take after we enter from the Ylisstol gate. We will travel to the West of Ylisstol, and take the North Road to Ferox.” Laslow slid his finger over the locations as he began to explain their route. “Traveling through Ferox will be the longest leg of the journey, but if nothing goes wrong we should be at Port Ferox in no time at all. From there we will hire a ship to take us through the Searoad to Valm Harbour.” He turned to the priestess, nodding his head in her direction. “Once we have made landfall, Silque will help guide us through Valm to the Mila Tree, here. Hopefully Anankos will show up early, and we will be able to speak to him before the trio destined for Corrin’s world arrive.”

“Excellent, and how long do you believe this will take?” Anna rubbed her chin, her eyes darting over the map.

“Well, the first time I made this journey it took us just under a month. However, I believe with our foresight, and if we push ourselves, we can complete the journey much faster.” Laslow reassured her, gripping the hilt to his sword.

“Good. I will relay this information to Alfonse, once sleeping beauty awakes.” Anna winked with a snicker. “Now, excuse me. I have a grumpy princess to console…” She rolled her eyes, and turned to leave, muttering to herself as she walked out the door. “I swear; I don’t get paid enough for this!”

Soren watched the commander as she waltzed out of the room, and then turned his attention back to the rest of the team to wrap up the briefing. “Now if there are no other inquiries, I want everyone to ready their equipment, and pack their bags. We will conjoin at the entrance of the west capital by the end of the lunch hour to move out to the gate.” Soren concluded the meeting, and quietly watched the team members whisper among themselves as they filed out of the large room.

“I have a bit of time before I have to report to the infirmary, did you want some help packing your bags?” Sakura asked Kiran as they walked back to the window.

She shook her head, and picked up her satchel, pulling the strap over her head. “I couldn’t sleep, and I finished packing this morning. I’m just going to head into the capital early. There are a few errands I want to run before we head out.” She explained, hugging her friend once they reached the hallway, both would be heading in different directions. “Thank-you, for everything, Sakura.”

“Be safe, Kiran.” Sakura warmly whispered, holding her tight.

Kiran nodded, and watched her friend walk down the quiet corridor, wondering when the next time they would see each. She pushed her hands in her pockets, and turned away, slowly heading towards the main entrance of the castle that led to the Askr’s city proper. Kiran didn’t really have anything to do in the capital, it was just an excuse to be on her own for a bit. It would be the last time she would have time to herself before she had to spend every day and night with her team members.

“I really wish you would talk to Soren about taking me with you.” Claude muttered, as she turned the corner towards the large wooden bridge over the mote. He had been leaning against the castle wall, waiting to catch her before she had left the castle. As Soren’s second hand, Claude had full knowledge of the briefing that had just taken place, and was still a bit sore about not being included on the mission roster. “I’m supposed to supervise you after all, I can’t have you running around strange worlds without me!”

Kiran shook her head; Soren had warned her of Claude's insistence on coming along before the meeting. “He has already denied your request once, and he was right to. Riding an albino wyvern from a foreign world isn’t exactly what they call ‘laying low.’ People will grow suspicious if they see Serge.” Kiran stopped before she reached the bridge. She wanted him to understand how important his role was here in Askr. “Besides, you’re the best at puzzles, and you’re the only one I trust to rebuild the gate. I need you here.”

“Fine, but I don’t like it!” Claude threw up his arms with a huff. He pursed his mouths before he reached behind his back and pulled out a sheathed dagger. “Here, I want you to take this. I was going to hold on to it until I could give it back to Ranulf myself, but I guess I can just treat him to a big lunch at our favorite bakery once he gets back!” He proudly smirked, and handed her Ranulf’s knife that he had picked up the night they found Kiran at the broken gate. “I think it’s better if you take it with you anyways. I’m sure he would be glad to know it was keeping you safe.”  
  
  
  


She stared down at the knife as she pulled it out of its sheath with baited breath. The last time she had seen the blade had been coated in Ranulf’s, and her own blood, but now it was spotless. Claude had taken the time to meticulously clean it, wiping away any memory of that night.

The blue steel knife, with silver handle and molded polished octopus’ tentacles wrapped around the hilt. Ranulf always had it with him. A gift from Dag when he started to work at the Upper Deep. It saddened her that the blade had never seen any acts of violence until now, however she would coat it again and again if meant she could bring him home.

Kiran swiftly slid the blade back, and attached the sheath to her belt. “Thank-you, Claude, I don’t know what I would do without you…” Her words catching in her throat, and her eyes tearing up. Everyone had grown so close over the past few happy months, and she found herself collapsing in Claude’s arms for the first time since returning from the realm of dreams, pressing her wet cheeks against his shirt. “Do you really plan to go back so soon?” Kiran sniffed, she had caught wind of his decision weeks before Ranulf went through the gates, but never had the courage to press Claude for more details until now.

He sighed, placing his hand on her head, holding her close, and he gently chuckled to himself. “I’m going to kick myself later, but, yes. I have to go back to Fódlan, and the sooner the better. I find myself growing more attached to the people in Askr every day!”

“But, the beauty of being summoned to Askr is you can go back anytime you want! Our contract is open.” She sniffed, she had lost Ranulf already, and she couldn’t bear the thought of Claude leaving too. “Why would you want to leave?”

Claude grew quiet, his mood darkening. “Can you recall what you and I shared in the dream realm?”

Kiran knew what her and Claude had experienced was vastly different from the rest of the heroes trapped in the dream. He had written down what he could remember, and showed her after. Claude had somehow learned so much information about her life in her own world. Much more than anything she had ever shared with anyone in Askr, and it frightened her so much that she took the book from him, and burned it.

She didn’t want anyone to know who she was, or where she came from before Askr. She wasn’t the legendary hero 'Kiran' they thought they summoned. Just a normal woman who ended up here by mistake. “No, I don’t remember.” Kiran muttered, ashamed by the actions she took to make him forget what he knew about her.

“Neither can I, but I know it was special.” Claude caressed her hair, as he spoke. “So special that I would have thrown away the dreams I had before I came to Askr to stay by your side.” He heisted, and sighed sadly, placing a hand on each of her arms, and gently prying her away. “But you stopped me. You wouldn’t let me do that, and… it broke my heart.”

“Is that why you’ve kept me at arm’s length these past months?” Kiran quietly asked, taking a step back. She had avoided this conversation for far too long, and she steeled herself for his answer.

“Yes, and no.” Claude shrugged, to her surprise he wasn’t as upset as she thought he might be, and he laughed at her. “For one, I’m your captain, and starting a scandal with the Order’s summoner isn’t a good look! But, mostly, over time I realized that you were right. I would have grown to regret turning my back on my homeland, and not fulfilling those dreams. You knew that my heart belonged in Almyra. Unifying, and leading the people to peace with those in Fódlan.” He paused and smiled down at her, pressing a finger into her chest. “Just like I know where your heart lies. It’s in Askr. Leading the heroes in the Order. Helping us grow, so we can achieve our dreams.”

“I’m not so sure I’m cut out for the job though.” Kiran muttered, and watched the slow moving water under the bridge of the mote flow. “I didn’t know leading would be so… lonely.”

“It can feel like that sometimes, can’t it?” Claude chuckled softly. “But you’re not alone. You have so many loyal friends you’ve made here.”

“Doesn’t matter. Alfonse once advised me not to get too close to the heroes. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I do now. You’ll lose them eventually. That, or they will return to their home worlds at some point.” She turned her to face away from him, a bitter sting in her tone. “Just like you.”

“Yeah, some will. Like me they have destinies to fulfill in their own worlds, but not all of them. Soren and Laslow aren’t going anywhere. Sakura has a fantastic position in the castle infirmary, and she has also started to set down roots!” He exclaimed, trying to cheer her up. “And I know when we get Ranulf back he’s going to be attached to your hip day and night! What more could you ask for?” Claude chuckled again, his soft laughter trailing off as he noticed the pitiful look on Kiran’s face as she tried to hide fresh tears after he hit a sensitive nerve with his words. “Look, I know what you have with Ranulf is…”

“Complicated?” She sniffled, wiping her cheeks with her thumb.

“Special.” Claude smiled, as he corrected her. He gave a light-heated shrug, and rolled his eyes. “Okay, yes, maybe a bit complicated too!” He quietly admitted throwing an arm around her shoulders, and roughly pulling her into the crook of his arm, giving her a squeeze. “But, I know if you both search your feelings; you’ll find it’s really not that hard at all!”

Kiran’s heart ached, and she desperately wanted Claude to be right. He had never let her down, and she knew she was a fool for pushing him away, but she also knew it was the right thing to do, regardless of what might happen in the future. “Claude, I’m sorry for any pain I might have caused you.”

“It’s water under the bridge, and I haven’t quite given up on seeing all my dreams come true!” Claude snickered. “I still have some tricks up my sleeve!” He happily declared as he escorted her to the boundaries of the castle, crossing over the mote below.

* * *

Kiran held on to her frying strap as she wandered down the familiar streets of the capital, thinking back on her morning in the castle. She had felt like there was a weight that had been lifted after speaking to Claude. They both recognized their paths were leading them in different directions. That their hearts belonged in different worlds, fulfilling different dreams. Even if she wasn’t quite sure what her dreams were yet.

She stopped in front of A&A: Sew Chic, the tailors run by two sisters she had become close to after clumsy antics required their services almost every other month. She pulled open the heavy door, the bell above clanging loudly, and she stepped into the quiet shop. “Hello? Anitra? Anneke?”

“Kiran! My girl!” Anitra popped her head out from behind the front counter, her tight red curls bouncing, and her bright crimson lips curled in the biggest smile as she put the book she had been reading down.

Anneke, the younger of the two sisters, pulled aside the back curtain or her seamstress station when she heard her older sister speak the summoner’s name. “We heard the dreadful news.” She rushed over, her brown hair, tied up in a messy bun, toppled back and forth. “Oh, our dear Ranulf-boy! Heartbreaking blow to the Order. How are you holding up, my dear?”

“It’s been tough, but we have a plan to get him back!” Kiran informed them, pulling off her satchel, and placing it on the counter. “That’s actually why I’ve dropped in. I’m leaving Askr for a while, and the strap on my bag is fraying. I know it’s a lot to ask on such short notice, but I was hoping you could mend it quickly?”

Anneke exchanged looks with Anitra, and a sly smirk appeared on both their faces. “Wait, right here! I have something better!” Anneke cried rushing to the back room, and returned with a box. She placed it on the counter, and quickly popped the lid off. “Take this.” The seamstress cooed, pulling out a brand new satchel, soft brown leather, decorative Askran knots embossed along the sides.

“No, I can’t accept this!” Kiran’s eyes widened as she stared at the satchel. “I don’t have enough to cover the cost of a new bag!”

“It’s alright, my girl!” Anitra giggled, and pulled out an invoice from the box. “Ranulf had ordered it to replace his rubbish old sac months ago. ‘Something perfect for traveling, and the battlefield’ he requested!”

Anneke began to transfer items from Kiran’s old satchel to the new one. “And there's no point keeping it around here anyways. Put it to good use, I say! Besides he would want it this way.”

Anitra nodded her head in agreement. “Besides, you will be doing us a favour. When you bring him back, you can deliver it to him for us, and we will have your old one wright as rain by then!”

“I can do that.” Kiran nodded, and choked back tears. “I will make sure he gets this!”

“We know you will!” Anitra reassured her. She reached behind the counter into the cabinet below, and pulled out a navy blue scarf with silver stitching. “Here, take this too! To keep you warm at night. This one is on us.”

“It’s the capital constellations.” Anneke whispered with an air of awe. She held out the scarf for Kiran to see the pattern of silver thread that was all conjoined as stars from the sky above them. “Whenever you feel homesick, hold this up. You can remember the Askr night sky, and all wonderful stars waiting for you to return.”

Kiran bit lip, and slowly nodded, her heart touched and overwhelmed by the gift.

“Safe travels, Kiran.” Anitra kindly smiled, as Anneke tied the scarf around her neck, as off in the distance he bells of the hour began to ring from the town square.

Kiran’s eyes widened in surprise. The morning had dragged on, and she thought for sure she was going to be on time today, but… “I’m late!”

“Go! Go!” Anneke exclaimed, pushing Kiran towards the door. “Make sure you drop by once you get back to tell us about your adventures!”

“I will! I promise.” Kiran returned their smile, and pulled the strap of the new satchel over her head. “Thank-you!” She cried out, as she dashed out the door with new vigor.

Kiran rushed down the cobblestone streets, trying her best to keep her pace without tiring herself out. The west entrance was not far from the district she was in, and she pushed through the crowded main streets, ignoring the whispers of awe from onlookers when they noticed her summoner’s coat. It wasn’t that long ago she could walk the streets unknown. Just a regular person, but now she had lived in Askr long enough that they all knew who she was, and what she had done. Her triumphs, and mistakes. She hated that she wasn’t just another face in the crowd anymore, and it made her want to run faster to avoid being seen.

She sighed in relief when the caravan at the entrance came into view. She stopped, and caught her breath, her hand clutching her knees. The heroes on the team were all gathered, waiting for her arrival. She didn’t know all of them that stood there, but she was relieved to join them, even Soren who was staring daggers at her for being late, and maybe she could become close to some of them on this journey.

“Summoner!” A man’s hoarse voice boomed, and rough old, one eyed man approached from her side. He towered over her, casting a great shadow, and stopping her in her tracks.

“Oh, Dag, what are you doing here?” Kiran was surprised to see him there. The owner of the food stall Ranulf worked part-time for in Sumbl Alley. “Isn’t this the busiest hour at the Upper Deep?”

“Yeah, but a little flying fish told me you were heading out today on a mission to help get that lazy Skogkatt back.” He muttered, looking down his crooked nose at her, and handed over a small bundle. “I thought I would bring you some böllurs for your journey.”

Kiran stared down at the cloth package, the warmth of the hot food inside radiating outward. She felt a ping of guilt, Ranulf was the only close friend Dag had, and she realized she wasn’t the only one that needed him back. “I’m sorry…”

“Oh, ho! what for?” He gave a hearty laugh. “You crazy guppies, it’s just a little swell in the sea of life! Dry your deck! You don’t want your crew to see ya like this, do ye? I have a message for him that I want you to pass on next time you see him!”

“Of course, anything.” Kiran nodded, clutching the bundle harder.

“You tell the Skogkatt that he is going to have to put in overtime once he gets back! Leaving me high and dry, like this!” Dag leaned over, and placed a heavy hand back on her back, his rough domineer melting away, exposing something far softer. “Tell him he’s going to have to make up for lost time…” He whispered softly, and gave her a gentle push. “Now you sail ahead! If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to spring a leak!”

“I’ll make sure Ranulf gets your message!” Kiran chuckled, and turned to wave back to him.

She gasped, and stopped in mid-wave, her eyes widening. Many of the citizens of the capital had begun to crowd around to see the heroes off, and they happily waved back at her when she raised her hand. Familiar faces from the markets, and the shops she had routinely visited. Neighbors from along Fljót Street, and patrons from the local taverns and cafes she would sometimes chat with. She hadn’t just become close to the heroes during her time in Askr.

“Come along, Kiran.” Soren instructed, when he pulled at her hand.

“Do they always come out like this?” Kiran whispered, as they walked toward the caravan.

“No.” Soren glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and his lips twitched into a smirk. “But they do consider you, and Ranulf, one of their own. You both live among them, and are a part of their community. The same can’t be said for many of the other heroes.” He gave a soft chuckle. “But, maybe some might follow your lead, in time.”

“One of them?” Kiran quietly repeated Soren’s words to herself. She lightly touched the scarf around her neck, maybe being known in Askr wasn’t all that bad, she thought with a smiled. She turned back to look at the Askrans that had gathered, and realized Claude was right. Her heart was in Askr, but maybe she wasn’t just meant to just lead the heroes in the battlefield, or help them grow as just warriors like he suggested. Maybe she was meant to blur the lines between the Order and Askr, between hero and civilian, and lead the heroes to an Askr they could call their own. She wanted to bring them all home.


	5. Bumps in the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiran and her team have made it to the World of Awakening. Their mission has been running smoothly, and they are making good time in their race to meet Anankos, but with every road there are a few bumps along the way, and there's happens to be Emblan Soldiers standing in their path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of a collection of short stories driven by the FEH Subreddit Weekly Writing Prompts, March. 8th, 2021. "Kiran comes face to abs with the Princess of Jotunheimr, Dagr." Off-prompt!

The team was quiet except for the ponies that whinnied as Merlinus pulled the caravan to the side of the road. Thick forest on each side. All of them eager to take a well needed break after their long morning trek. Kiran and her team had journeyed through Ylisse without any setbacks, and they were approaching Ferox with only a few days’ travel under their belt.

Kiran scuffed the dirt under her boot as she watched some of the heroes start to unpack a few supplies for their lunch from the edge of the road. She knew she was pushing them harder than Laslow would have liked, and she really was trying to hold her impatience in check, but she would always grow antsy whenever they stopped, unable to relax with them when they took their breaks, or even around the campfire in the evenings. Instead she found herself stuck in her old ways, quietly staring at the fire, or up at the stars, wrapped up in her own thoughts, hardly paying any mind to the other heroes. Neither Merlinus’ nightly stories of heroics, or Velouria’s belly aching, bored out of her mind, peaked her interest. She had even brushed off Nils who would often complain about strange noises coming from the back of the tightly packed caravan.

“Here, eat this. You haven’t had a bite all morning.” Laslow held out a shiny red apple in front of her face, snapping her mind back to reality.

Her stomach growled as her hunger caught up with her when she looked at the apple, and she nodded slightly in thanks. “How are we progressing so far?” Kiran asked before taking a large bite of the fruit.

“Good. We’ll be in Ferox soon enough.” A warm smile washed over Laslow’s face. “My mother’s homeland.” He shyly added.

“Did you grow-up there?” Kiran leaned against the rickety wooden log fence along the roadside, hungrily devouring the apple.

“I’m afraid not.” Laslow mimicked her stance, folding his arms, and swinging one leg over the other. “I grew-up in the castle with my older sister.” He chuckled as he reminisced about his childhood. “She used to chase me, and the other boys, around the water gardens with her sword held high in the air above her head. I would always run and hide, of course, but by Naga, I wanted to be in her shoes.”

“I know how that feels. Beautiful, smart, successful. I always wanted to be just like my older sister too.”

“You have a sister? I didn’t know, but I guess I have never spoken of my past life either. Too risky in Askr.”

“Yeah...” Kiran sadly agreed. She had known Laslow since the first day she arrived. He was one of the first heroes she had summoned, and overtime she had worked closely with him to increase his skills and abilities. Yet, they were practically strangers when it came to matters outside of Askr. Kiran finished her apple, thinking back to what Soren had said before she left the capital. About the heroes following her lead. Maybe if she wanted the heroes to stay her side, she had to start opening up to them, she concluded. “Laslow, maybe after this mission we can catch-up over -'' Kiran began before their attention shifted to Shamir as she jogged up to them, having returned from scouting the road ahead.

“Captain!” Shamir addressed Laslow, a bead of sweat dripped down the side of her cheek, a sign she had rushed to return to them.

“What is it?” Laslow raised a concerned eyebrow.

“Soldiers from Embla up the road.” Shamir kept her voice low, her hand resting on her quiver as she gave her report. “Not too many of them, but they have a few hired mercs. There’s around ten of them all together.”

“What?!” Kiran’s eyes widened. “Why would Veronica send troops here?”

“Don’t know, but they seem to be traveling with a large crate.” Shamir continued to explain. “They have made camp for lunch, and Zihark is keeping an eye on them until you give your orders.”

“What do you want to do?” Laslow turned to Kiran.

“Do you think we can win if we engage them?”

“Yes, I believe so.” He nodded after rubbing his chin for a second. “However, we do risk exposing our own mission, and losing valuable time in the process, but it’s your call, Kiran.”

Kiran grimaced and turned away. They were in a race to reach Anankos, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall behind their schedule, However, she knew exactly what her good friend would advise her if he was here. She steeled herself when she gave Laslow her answer. “Ranulf would not allow Emblan forces to be running amok across the worlds, and neither will I.”

“If you want to attack them we should go now while we have the element of surprise.” Shamir reached for her bow, plucking at the string to test its strength.

“Agreed.” Kiran nodded, and looked at Laslow. “Gather Velouria, Silque, and Nils. Have them prepare their weapons. Merlinus, and Knoll can push on with the caravan, and we can catch up with them after.”

“I’ll ready the team if you want to go ahead with Shamir.” Laslow instructed jumping to his feet, and striding off towards the other heroes.

Kiran nodded for Shamir to lead the way, unclasping Breidablik holster. A ping of excitement rushed through her body. She was finally able to take out some of her anger on someone deserving of it. “Let’s just make this quick.”

* * *

Using the shadows of the thick low hanging foliage to conceal themselves, Shamir slowly moved branches of the bush, quietly pushing away underbrush for her and Kiran to sneak up, and spy on the Emblan camp. “It looks like they’re getting ready to move out soon.” Shamir whispered, watching the soldiers and mercenaries in their camp. Some began to gather their equipment, quietly chatting among themselves, while others continued to eat the remainders of their lunch.

Kiran surveyed the camp. The soldiers wore dark black armour with the golden knots of Embla proudly displayed on their helms and chests. There was no doubt about it, they had come here from their world, and she had to know for what reason Veronica would send them. Her eyes fell on a large crate that sat on a two-wheel pull wagon, and she raised her eyebrow, wondering what was inside. 

Laughter broke out on the far side of the camp where a few of the mercenaries had gathered. Most look like average riff raff you could find on the streets. Rusted weapons, and tattered clothes. Her heroes could make easy work of them. However, there were two that looked like they could be troublesome if underestimated. One man kneeling near the tree line, ignoring the others, practicing deep meditation. His metal armour glinted in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the tattered red cape he wore wrapped around his shoulders, and the shaggy dark hair, barely held back by his forest green headband. He didn’t strike Kiran as someone to be feared on the surface, but there was something just underneath. A quiet storm. A gut feeling that warned her to watch her back if she was to engage him. The second mercenary she wanted to be careful of was a giant, battle hardened man. Scars etched into his large rippling muscles, and he wore a wicked smile, hugging his axe like a lover.

“Gods, look at the size of him.” Shamir’s gaze was on the same mercenary Kiran watched. “Well you know the saying, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

“Summoner, Shamir.” Zihark appeared out of nowhere on one of the branches above them. His training during the ninja festival made him an incredibly stealthy scout. “Where are the others?” He whispered, his hand clutching one of his two katanas.

Kiran held back her curse after the swift and silent swordsman startled her. “For Askr’s sake, Zihark, you scared me!”

“They’re on their way.” Shamir turned her attention back to the camp. “Hey, where did the big oaf go?”

“Oaf?!” The large mercenary exclaimed from behind as he towered over the bush Shamir and Kiran hid in. He swung his battleaxe over his shoulder. “Little girls should watch their tongues!” He told them with a huff as he brought down his weapon.

“Go!” Shamir cried out as she grasped Kiran’s arm and dragged her out of the bush into the open camp, just narrowly escaping the axe’s blade as it crashed through the foliage alerting the other occupants of the camp.

“Lookie what I found in the bushes! Some peepin’ tomettes!” The mercenary laughed as he trudged through the broken ticket. “I almost gave them a golden shower!”

“So much for the element of surprise.” Shamir muttered, drawing an arrow from her quiver, and pulling it back as she took aim at the lumbering man who reached down to take hold of Kiran who was face down in the dirt. “Summoner, move!” Shamir shouted before letting her arrow loose as Kiran dodged away.

Kiran gasped, and scrambled to her feet. The high pitch whistle of the fletched feathers flying past her head. She stumbled in shock and stared at the Embla soldiers who stared back at her, equally surprised to see her. “It’s the Askran summoner!” One of them cried out, when he noticed the elaborate markings on her coat.

“Seize her!” The captain of the Emblan squad rose to his feet, pointing at Kiran, and spilling the bowl of soup he had on his lap. “Capture the Order’s summoner, and kill the other one with her!” He growled from under his helm, and reached for his own weapon. “Make it fast, whenever there’s one Askran rat, there’s bound to be more!”

The Emblan soldiers scrambled to their feet, grabbing whatever weapon they could arm themselves with, and formed a semicircle around Kiran, trying to trap her. The mercenaries in the camp were quick to react to the shouting, and obey their employers. They threw on their crude equipment, and pulled out their rusted weapons.

“Shamir, fall back to the road! We’re outnumbered!” Zihark cried as he dropped down from the treetops, landing lightly, and putting himself between the soldiers and Kiran. Zihark pulled both his katanas out, blocking the soldier’s attacks, and slashing down on them with a counter. He glanced back at Kiran, snapping her out of her state of shock. “Now would be a good time to see what that ancient weapon of yours does, summoner.”

“Right.” Kiran nodded, standing her own ground as she surveyed their enemies, looking for the right opening. She pulled Breidablik from its holster, holding it close to her face, drawing on what she had learned during training. “Just like when you’re with Soren, Joyce.” She whispered, reminding herself of what she had learned, and tapping into the well of power within her, letting it swirl forward. “Just control the flow…” Kiran slowly pointed Breidablik at her enemies, concentrating on the amount of energy she released through the barrel. Small, bright white flashes of light blasted forward towards the soldiers, knocking them effortlessly backwards off their feet, and throwing them across the camp with chard holes smoking in their chests. The low sound of rolling thunder following each blast, sending a small shockwave of vibration through the air, and she turned to the group of mercenaries Zihark had started to keep at bay.

Kiran locked eyes with the mercenary that had been kneeling near the tree line. He slowly stood to his feet, pointing at Kiran, his cold stone expression unchanging. “Now you, you are a worthy opponent.” His gazed never wavered from her, and he reached back to grasp the hilt of his golden longsword, swinging it over his shoulder as he took a step forward. Kiran smirked as the warm surge of power washed over her, and she raised her Breidablik again, pointing the barrel in the mysterious mercenary’s direction.

The large axe wielding mercenary swung hard at Shamir as she continued to kite him around the camp, firing arrows toward the giant whenever she had a chance. “Hold still you little minx!” He demanded as she dodged his axe blade backwards, putting herself in front of Kiran’s crossfire.

“Shamir, duck!” Kiran cried out, causing the archer to lose her balance, and stumble, unaware of the danger she had put herself in. Kiran quickly changed the target of her attack to the large mercenary that was about to swing his axe down upon Shamir, splitting her in two. Kiran unleashed the blast from Breidablik she had charged-up on the large lumbering oaf, sending him backwards with a crack of thunder, tossing him in the bushes where he had caught them before the fight broke out.

“Many thanks, summoner.” Shamir dusted herself off, and Kiran offered her hand to help the archer to her feet.

“Fall back!” Zihark commanded as he kept their foes back, sparks flying off his blades as they made contact with the enemy’s steel.

Kiran stood close to Shamir who was quick to fall in line, firing arrows into the group to open up a clean path for them to make their escape to the road. She pulled the string of her bow back, lining up an arrow aiming at the mysterious mercenary who had taken an interest in Kiran, his eyes watching the battle closely, unwilling to engage with them until he found his opportunity to get closer.

Shamir released the string, her arrow screeching towards the red cape mercenary. His reflexes were quick as lightning, and he used his longsword to block, countering Shamir’s arrow, and returning a charged form of it back towards her, lodging it deep into her right shoulder with a sickening crack, the force of the attack spinning her around, and knocking her to the ground.

“Damn it!” Shamir growled into the dirt, rolling over to sit-up. She winced and snapped the long wooden arrow protruding from her body in two.

“Shamir!” Kiran ran to the archer’s side, dropping down to her knees beside her.

“That blade…” Zihark gasped through laboured breaths, his stamina depleting with each assault he fended off for the large group. “Where did you get that blade?” He glared at the mercenary who quietly looked at his own sword with a curious expression.

The mercenary turned his attention towards Kiran and Shamir. Ignoring Zihark’s question. He moved towards the two women on the ground, reaching down with his free hand. “I didn’t…”

A flash of white and gold, followed by a cloud of dust kicked up by a magnificent lance as the tip hit the dirt, cutting off the mercenary that almost had the summoner in his grasp. “My turn!” Sharena cried out with a mischievous grin, spinning on the spot, bringing her legendary lance, Fensalir, down as she brought it around her body, and slashing at the mercenary, forcing him back.

The mercenary used his longsword to block Sharena’s assault, Fensalir screeching against his gold blade as they clashed. “What the?!” He muttered, taking the defensive after the surprise attack.

“Sharena?!” Kiran’s eyes widened in astonishment as she watched the Askran princess dive into the fray to protect her. “What are you doing here?!”

Sharena looked back at the summoner, and gave her a wink. “Saving your butt, Kiran!” She exclaimed before turning her attention back to the mercenary, pirouetting with Fensalir once again, and coming down hard against his longsword, the clang of metal ringing out through the camp.

“Princess, stand down!” Zihark commanded, crossing his katanas to block the attacks being brought down on him, and only able to turn away from his own opponents for a brief moment.

“Princess?” The red caped mercenary raised his eyebrow, as he blocked Sharena’s lance, deflecting the tip away from him with a swipe of his longsword, the sound of the blade hummed as it cut through the air. “I do not wish to fight you, but if you continue this assault I will not hold back, regardless of your royal standing.”

“Oh yeah?! Good!” Sharena spat back with a chuckle, swinging the length of Fensalir in front of her. “Once Alfonse hears I protected our legendary summoner he won’t be able to keep me from going on future missions!” Sharena pulled back Fensalir, bracing her stance, and digging her boots in the dirt, preparing herself for a final blow. “They won’t be leaving me out of the fun anymore!”

“Sharena!” Kiran demanded, pushing herself to her feet. “Stand down!”

“Hum?” Sharena's smile faded, and she glanced back at Kiran, taking her eyes off her target for a split second.

The mercenary was quick to take the opportunity presented to him, raising his golden longsword over his head, gearing up for a heavy blow on the distracted princess. Kiran’s eyes widened, and she grabbed Sharena’s cape, twisting it around her hand, and violently pulling her back, while raising Breidablik with her other hand, taking aim at the mercenary who was about to strike, and letting the barrel flare with pure white light.

“Summoner, NO!” Shamir cried out, observing the confrontation from the ground. “His blade will counter your attack!” She tried to warn Kiran just as the summoner unleashed a powerful blast from her ancient weapon.

The mercenary adjusted his stance to block the Kiran’s attack, shielding himself with the length of his longsword just as the flash of light hit him. “What is this… power?” He grunted, straining to hold his sword upright as white fire collided with his blade. With a mighty growl, the mercenary swiped his blade outward with all his strength, forcing the blast from Breidablik away from him, and up towards the treetops. “Who are you?” He gasped, gazing at Kiran, trying to catch his breath as broken leaves and branches rained down from above.

Before Kiran could respond she felt someone pull her back from her stand-off with the mysterious mercenary, Laslow repositioned Kiran to safety. “Stay behind me.” He instructed as the rest of their team finally arrived. Knoll and Nils swiftly ran to support Zihark, while Sique moved to aid Shamir.

An ear piercing roar echoed in the forest as Velouria crashed through the tree line. Her mighty arms swiping to and fro. Destroying the supplies in the camp, and striking fear into the heart of the at the remainder of their foes. The soldiers and mercenaries alike scattered and panicked at the sight, making them easy to pick-off for the rest of the Order’s team.

Velouria set her sights on the mysterious mercenary who stood before Laslow, Kiran and Sharena. She gave him a beastly snarl, her lips curling up and around her long fangs. The young wolfskin let out a loud grunt, and rushed the mercenary, toppling him over onto his back and knocking his longsword from his hand. Velouria held him down, pinning him under her massive body.

“E-easy…” The mercenary whispered nervously, holding his hands up, yielding to the beast. The wolfskin continued to snarl in his face, her hot breath enveloping his face, drops of stringy saliva running from her frothy mouth.

Velouria’s nostrils began to twitch, excessively sniffing the air around her. With a snort, she pushed her great snout against the chest of the mercenary, snuffing and huffing at his armour. Velouria transformed back to the small wolfskin girl, lifting the red tattered cape from the mercenary to her face, and inhaling the scent deeply. “Smells… familiar…”

“Velouria, what are you doing?!” Sharena panicked, gripping Fensalir tightly, and pointing it at the mercenary as Velouria backed off their foe.

Velouria’s eyes widened as she dropped the red cape, staring down at the mysterious mercenary she knelt on. “Brother Ike!” The young wolfskin cried out in excitement.

“Huh?” Sharena murmured, dumbfounded, lowering her lance. “Ike? Like another new version? But he doesn’t really look like him though…”

“It’s faint, but he definitely smells like him!” Velouria pulled the red cape back to her face, accidently choking the startled, and very confused mercenary.

“How…” The mercenary began as he sat up, pulling the cape from Velouira’s grip, so he could breathe again. “How do you know the scent of my great ancestor, the radiant hero?”

“Ancestor…” Zihark repeated, sliding his katana back into their sheaths as he and Knoll joined the circle they formed around the mysterious mercenary. The last of their foes had been beaten, Zihark looked down, and picked up the mercenary’s golden longsword. “Is this how you came to wield Ragnell?”

“You know of it?” The mercenary looked up at Zihark in surprise. “I am the last of a long line of warriors descended from the radiant hero Ike.” He announced, and nodded to the old longsword. “Ragnell, and what is left of this cape, has been passed on from generation to generation.”

Kiran scowled, and pulled Fensalir from Sharena’s grip, pushing Laslow out of her way, and striding towards the mercenary sitting on the ground. She pointed the tip of the lance at his neck after a quick swipe with her wrist. The brash, unexpected action left her heroes speechless. “If you are truly Ike’s ancestor, why were you working with scum like the Emblan Empire?”

“I’m a mercenary.” His eyes followed the length of the lance held under his chin, up towards Kiran, and meeting her eyes as she glared down on him. “After we won the war, work for fighters, like myself, are few and far between. I take what I can get.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly as he looked around at the bloodshed throughout the site. “But to be honest, something hasn’t sat right with me about this job since I took it. I would have let you run the camp through if you hadn’t pulled… that out.” He glanced back at Kiran, and nodded to Breidablik clutched in her other hand. “I wanted to test myself. It’s been a long time since I found someone with your strength to challenge.”

“M-my strength?” Kiran whispered, stumbling over her words. She felt her face grow warm with embarrassment. She averted her gaze flustered by the compliment, her sights falling on the large wooden crate sitting in the wagon, and she swallowed her insecurities pushing to regain her composure. She glared back down to him, trying to act tough, and hoping he wouldn’t notice how green she was at leading, and fightin in general. “What’s in the crate?” She demanded to know, wanting to move attention away from herself.

“I don’t know, and I urge you to be careful if you go near it.” He warned them, giving the crate a worried glance. “There were more of us at the beginning of the journey, however those who found themselves too close to the crate eventually wasted away, slowly over time, until there was nothing of their life force left to give. Those dastards didn’t even stop to give their own men proper burials when their time came.” He growled through his teeth, staring daggers at the dead Emblan Soldiers scattered around the site.

“Knoll, are you able to help Silque get close enough to dispel the dark magic, or something?” Kiran asked, the lance she held to the neck of the mercenary unwavering. “Make it safe enough for us to approach?”

“Right away, summoner.” Knoll pulled out his tome, and approached the crate slowly, Silque in tow, with her staff ready.

“Zihark, what do you think?” Kiran inquired as she continued to glare down at the mercenary. “You fought alongside Ike in Tellius. Is this man worthy of his claim?” The mercenary's eyes widened in disbelief when he heard this, but he held his tongue.

Zihark quietly ran his hand along the Ragnell’s edge. The dull gold surface scarred with fractures and crazing. “How far you have come…” He whispered, admiring the old longsword he knew well. “Yes. I believe he is trustworthy.”

Sharena pouted, and placed her hands on her hips. “How can you be so sure? He hurt Shamir!”

“Because I don’t believe he knew Ragnall was going to counter Shamir’s arrow like it did.” Zihark explained, handling the longsword with much care. “The blade is old, and the blessing it had once received has worn away.” He hesitated, and nodded to Kiran. “But I think Ragnell has responded to being in the presence of our summoner. It’s reacting to the link she has to the other worlds, Tellius being one of them.” Zihark swung Ragnell, the blade singing as it cut through the air. “He seemed just as surprised as we were, and he was offering aid to the summoner before you jumped in Sharena.”

Kiran nodded in agreement, loosening her grip on Fensalir, and swiping it away from the mercenary’s throat in one swift motion. She turned to Sharena, handing her lance back to her. “You’re in so much shit when we get back to camp.” She growled quietly through her teeth at the stowaway princess. Sharena tried to protest, with only a small squeal escaping her lips, but Kiran ignored her, unwilling to give her any excuse, and turned back to the mercenary, offering him her hand to help him up. “What’s your name?”

“Priam.” He gave her a relieved smile, and gripped her arm, and simultaneously pushing himself to his feet. “And is there something I should call you, or is “Summoner” your true name?” He gave a lighthearted chuckle.

“Kiran, will be fine.” She returned his relieved grin, sliding Breidablik back into its holster, and looking around the camp. The dead fighters littered the ground, dark pools of blood soaked into the dirt, and her stomach turned. This was her first stand-off that she was forced to take the lives of her foes to protect herself, and her heroes. She felt sick at the thought of it, but it wasn’t that she took their lives that made her ill, it was that killing them didn’t bother her as much as she thought it should have. Taking the lives of monsters like Hel and Freyja was not the same as regular people with family and friends. Where was her remorse that everyone was expected to have after? In fact, she realized thinking back to the fight, she just might have smiled at one point during the clash, and she hoped no one else saw.

“Summoner! We have the crate open,” Knoll called out, striding toward her, his eyes wide as he stared intensely at her. Silque pushed past him, her hand covering her mouth as she ran to the bushes, and began vomiting. “But I must warn you, there is a strong odor.” Knoll gave Silque a worried look.

“Good. Zihark, check on Silque. Laslow, with me.” Kiran nodded, and looked at the rest of the team. “Velouria, Nils, take the princess back to the caravan.” She instructed as she marched off toward the crate with Laslow in tow. Priam was quick to follow them, curious to see what was inside the crate as well.

The lid of the wooden crate lay off to the side of the two-wheel pull wagon, exposing its contents as it sat at an angle. Kiran could see dark violet vapours wisps lick off the surface of the object that was about the size of an armoured knight’s shield. The glossy flat shell had a black mauve opalescence appearance with bloody rotten flesh connected the underside. “Oh gods…” Kiran muttered, her stomach flipping again when the stench of death reached her nostrils, and she covered her nose with her sleeve. “What is that?”

“It appears to be a scale from a great beast.” Knoll’s eyes darted back and forth over the object, and he clutched his tome, prepared to strike it down if it were to come alive at any moment. “It’s in a state of decay, but the amount of dark magic that it gives off is still… immense.”

“Disgusting.” Kiran gagged, tears forming in her eyes as the vapours stung them, and she turned away unable to bear the smell any longer. “What sort of beast could it have come from?”

Laslow’s eyes widened, and he lowered the silk handkerchief he held to his face. “Grima…”

“The Emblan squad did sail into Port Ferox when they hired us.” Priam piped in, rubbing his chin as he recalled. “They could have come from Origin Peak.”

“I don’t understand.” Kiran coughed, trying to clear her lungs from the foul odor that lingered. “What happened in Origin Peak?”

“The final battle with Grima. These scales, and various other parts, were scattered across the sea, and the ground below Origin Peak.” Laslow tucked his handkerchief into his breast pocket, and wiped the underside of his nose with a loud sniff. “I know they buried what they could in an attempt to cleanse the area of the lingering fell magic.” He shook his head in disbelief as he looked at the large scale sitting in the crate. “I never thought anyone in their right mind would dig it up.”

“The dark magic is still quite strong in the flesh.” Knoll grimly stated, exchanging worried looks with Laslow. “It seems that Grima was not defeated in this world like he was in others.”

“This… world?” Priam raised an eyebrow, and laughed nervously. “You speak as if you are all from another world, mage?”

“It’s hard to explain, Priam, you have never been summoned to Askr before. Just know that where we are from Embla is our enemy.” Kiran turned to Praim with a steady voice. “I haven’t summoned you, and I can’t offer you a contract with the Order of Heroes, but I will pay you double of what Embla promised if you come with us. At least to Port Ferox. Tell me everything you heard, and saw while you traveled with them.”

Priam gave a soft chuckled, a smile crossed his face. “Save you coin, Kiran, I’ll do it in exchange of knowledge, and a chance to train with you.” He told her, the hard exterior melted away, and the storm that she could sense within him was calm. “You saved me from this dreadful job, and I'm curious to hear more of where you are from.” Priam paused, his voice becoming soft. “You have a power I have never experienced before, and you have awoken my blade, because of that I will stay by your side for as long as you will have me.”

Kiran felt her face grow warm again, and shyly nodded. Flustered, she turned to head back to the caravan that had just arrived, and exchanged looks with Laslow, his wide eyes told her what he was thinking, greatly concerned about bringing someone native to this world into their team of outworlders. “I have to know more about why Embla wants parts of Grima. Their intentions can’t be good.” She whispered as she passed him.

“What should we do about Princess Sharena?” Laslow pressed, quickening his pace to keep up with her. “Surely Prince Alfonse and Commander Anna would want us to return with her as soon as possible, not to mention the Queen must be beside herself right about now.”

“We have come too far to turn around, and take her back to Askr. We’ll miss our window to meet Anankos if we do, and who knows what other troubles await us up the road.” Kiran shrugged, she wasn’t going to let anyone stop her from completing this mission. Alfonse and the Queen were just going to have to sit tight until she could bring the princess home. She would deal with the repercussions once they returned to Askr. “Besides, Sharena wanted a chance to prove herself, now she has one.”


End file.
